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Tue, 03 Mar 2015 22:47:39 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/http://1.gravatar.com/blavatar/bf69214e83fdd5520e4b5d91ba3b7d64?s=96&d=http%3A%2F%2Fs2.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.png » journalismhttp://news.nationalpost.com
On the declining prospects of the young journalist (or: To the writers of the future: good luck with that)http://news.nationalpost.com/2015/01/09/on-the-declining-prospects-of-the-young-journalist-or-to-the-writers-of-the-future-good-luck-with-that/
http://news.nationalpost.com/2015/01/09/on-the-declining-prospects-of-the-young-journalist-or-to-the-writers-of-the-future-good-luck-with-that/#commentsFri, 09 Jan 2015 20:21:51 +0000http://news.nationalpost.com/?p=567639

Last week I was contacted by an old friend, one of my first editors, who now teaches journalism at a university. He asked me to come in and give a talk in his feature writing class. This used to be one of the pleasures of being a journalist. In journalism, feelings of fraud can run rampant. So often, you need to become an instant expert in topics that were before entirely remote to you. Over the years, you learn how to do it responsibly: how to know just enough to know that what you know is right; how to know enough to adequately understand the astounding amount you don’t know.

But here is something you do know, unequivocally: How you’ve made a living for the past quarter century. And you find, miraculously, through a career composed of bits and pieces of writing of varying shape, size and quality, that the work stands as a whole. You have come a long way. You actually have quite a bit to pass on. You have that story about staying up all night with the New York fact-checker with a voice like a Jewish shrink out of central casting, as the real-time facts of your 8,000-word story changed like the flickering departures board at a train station. You have the one about being flown to L.A. to hang out with a perennially hungover celebrity, and how he kept on falling asleep in the interview, and then talking in his sleep. You had the ethical dilemma: If I have his sleep talk on tape, can I in good conscience use it?

You can talk about how you got your first job at a newspaper, as a music editor, while still an undergrad. It was a free weekly and it paid enough to allow you to move out of your parents’ house and into your own apartment.

You can talk about how, when you are a young journalist, the concept of “over-research” does not exist.

You can give advice about the respect you must pay copy editors and fact checkers — the unsung heroes of the traditional newspaper or magazine. (And also, how it’s best to transcribe your own interviews, even if it takes weeks, because it’s by far the best way to get to know your own material.)

You can ensure: several rewrites with a tough editor is usually the best thing that can happen to a story, even if you feel like the editor is ruining your story and your life.

You can also speak about how, in Narnia, talking animals abound, trees can walk and certain kings get around on unicorn.

Another friend who is a newspaper editor recently described the problem of speaking, from the perch of experience gleaned in decades before this one, at a journalism school today: “It’s either you stand up and lie, or just depress the hell out of all the students.”

Because copy editors have become an extreme luxury at many news outlets, and fact checkers a distant memory, and there are barely any free weeklies any more, certainly none that can get you your own apartment while still in university, and most outlets have no travel budgets for cultural reporting anymore, and most editors are so overburdened that a writer is lucky to get a one-word email (“thanks!”) in return for a commissioned article, be it a blurb or something slaved over for months.

The writer should be happy they are getting paid at all. The thousands of kids graduating from the print streams of North American journalism schools now are destined for years of unpaid internships at organizations currently hemorrhaging money, or an unmoored existence, fuelled by bright hope and nearly impossible expectations, in the twittering universe of blogs, Tumblr, non-paying online magazines and postings on social media. They will be convinced to write for free over and over again, because it is “good exposure.” It comes to the point where a thousand retweets — or Facebook likes or Instagram thumbs-up — feels like actual career headway, rather than the fleeting pleasant distraction that it is, the scent of bread and circuses in the wind (albeit much more circus than bread).

Last year I did visit my former editor’s feature-writing class. For my talk, I chose the lying route. I had just written a cover story for an American magazine that represented a quarter of my income that year, a story I had worked on for six months. I talked about the multiple trips the piece required, about the all-nighter with the cawfee-tawking fact checker, about the library of 23 books I read in preparation for writing, about the month of interview transcription, about the four versions the story went through before publication.

I stood there lying not because any of the above was untrue for me, last year. I was lucky enough to be born in 1973, to have gained all my experience and connections in the last decades when the long-form style of feature print journalism I was describing was not just a viable route for many writers, but a profitable one.

But it will frankly will be an impossible career niche for nearly every single person in the graduating classes of 2015, who are coming into journalism in a time of great transition and mystery as to how the industry, never mind its art, will continue. I certainly have no crystal ball on the matter.

Nonetheless, last year, I wanted to talk to these students. When, in 1992, I began writing freelance for independent papers and magazines, I was told by older writers that it would be hard to make a living that way. The standard pay back then, for the type of venues I was writing for, was about 15 cents a word. I didn’t listen to the people who told me no and plowed forward and did what they said I couldn’t do.

So last year, I projected that memory across the feature-writing class of 20 kids. I told myself not to be a curmudgeon, I told myself, “there will be one or two students here who will be able to make their living as feature writers, even now.” I told myself to talk for the benefit of those two, that if those two could make it, it was worth sprinkling a fantasia of fairy dust on the rest of the class.

Because, plainly, most millennials aspiring to be journalists will have to be supported by family money or another job if they want to write. For me, journalism was a profession that could instil passion; for them, it will necessarily have to be a purer passion, a more ardent passion, more strictly an art, something that becomes, for lack of money, a labour of love — and that can be a funny fit for the creation of everything we call news today. There’s only so much excitement the penning of, say, a sidebar or listicle can call up.

And the culture of low-pay or no-pay is spreading across the spectrum. This year, I needed to accept pay cuts at two of my regular venues. I was courted by a storied editor at a big-name Internet magazine and was then offered me their going rate of 13 cents a word — not a living wage, no matter what your lifestyle. At tax time I realized that in 2013, I made less than what I had earned as a freelancer in 2002. I have had to reassess how much time and energy I spend on each story, given the dwindling amount I receive for my work.

So I have not emailed my old editor back about his invitation yet. Because how can I go into a class talking diligence and quality and doing everything for a story when few of the future venues will pay for that? I chide myself for last year, talking about cushy travel budgets and more-than-fair pay. This year, I feel it would be better to go in and ask the students, “just how do you plan on doing it?” And then I will listen very carefully.

Charlie HebdoLeft, a cover of Charlie Hebdo from 2005, when the French satirical magazine published the controversial Danish cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad. Right, the cover of Charlie Hebdo published Wednesday, the same day three gunmen attacked its offices in Paris, killing 12, including five cartoonists.

What a day to be a journalist: To reprise an old Cold War-era saying, better read, it appears, than dead.

Every newspaper in the free world should today be reprinting one or another of the brilliant cartoons that may have provoked the wrath of the terrorists who attacked Charlie Hebdo on Wednesday, or the original offending cartoons of the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten in 2005 which set the Muslim world to rioting and puking in 2006 and which every paper in the free world ought to have reprinted way back then, but mostly didn’t.

Why should we do this, or something like it, even if it’s a bit late in the game?

Because, well, we — cartoonists, editors and journalists — are a pretty much useless lot. Except for the cartoonists, we have few actual skills. We don’t make things, sell things, do things. What we do is write about, or draw, what other people make, sell and do. We are the ciphers, the code clerks: Stuff occurs in the world and we say what it was and sometimes, what we think it means (except for the cartoonists, we are usually wrong).

This isn’t much of a contribution, any way you cut it.

So today of all days, we should do the very little bit of which we are capable, and publish the hell out of those cartoons.

That’s all we can do; therefore, it’s what we should do.

Plus, it would be fun, and a bit of fun is just what we all need at the moment.

As the British cartoonist Martin Rowson said on the BBC on Wednesday, despite the horror of the Charlie Hebdo attack, the very best response to it is to “laugh them back into the dustbin of history, where they belong.”

(I love Mr. Rowson, and not only because he has written and had published a book called Fuck: The Human Odyssey, though that is a big part of it.)

It probably won’t happen, at least not quite the way I envisage, partly because we — cartoonists, editors and journalists — don’t run our shows any more than you all run yours, wherever you toil. We work for corporate entities who have concerns and sensitivities, don’t you know. They have shareholders or investors (they’re the ones who call us “content providers” now) and they don’t want to hugely and unnecessarily piss off a huge group of potential readers or advertisers, such as, say, Muslims, even though so far as I know there’s not a scintilla of evidence that Muslims are more willing than any other group to pay for news, though there is plenty of it to suggest that they are rather more sensitive to such slights.

Instead, many news outlets likely will run the Je Suis Charlie hashtag and join in the general verklempt-ness, best captured by the political leaders of the free world, who have expressed their deepest sympathies to “the families” of the victims, denounced the violence and asked aloud how on Earth such attacks can be stopped.

Truth is, most people are sad and shaken, just as most of us are clever enough to tell the difference between the fundamentalist freaks of Islam and those Muslims who have no time for jihad or beheading folks on the common street or taking an AK to the staff of a satirical magazine.

And truth is, the attacks can’t and won’t be stopped, not all of them anyway, no matter how good a country’s security forces. Whether committed by lone wolves, rebels looking for a cause, the mentally unstable or the more highly trained jihadists with actual affiliations to terror groups, whether homegrown or imports or self-radicalized, they can’t all be stopped. We ought to recognize that.

And, sadly, almost no one is stirred to real action by murdered cartoonists and journalists, let alone by assaults upon the freedoms (to speak, to publish, to make fun of everything and everyone) they exercised every working day of their lives and which mostly lie about, quietly atrophying, in most of the rest of us.

You want to talk about common or “shared values,” as just about every Western leader has done since the attack? The value most shared in the West, and perhaps in this country in particular, is timidity.

The day Charlie Hebdo was attacked, I had a story in the paper about an Ontario man named Eric Brazau being jailed another year for, at least in part, spouting off on a Toronto subway train about the Koran and Islam.

The judge found, in essence, that Mr. Brazau should have known that talking in a loud voice and ranting about the Koran on a subway car would make passengers sufficiently uncomfortable that someone would pull the emergency alarm and cause a big delay.

And someone did, a man who wasn’t involved in the discussion at all, and Mr. Brazau was found to have provoked him to do it.

The young woman Mr. Brazau had actually engaged in debate — she was appalled by his rudeness to one Muslim passenger and that he was shrieking about such things in front of some girls wearing the hijab — was holding her own nicely, thanks very much. She did exactly what most of us would hope we’d do if we overheard some clown yipping off on the subway.

But another year in the joint, on top of the five-plus months Mr. Brazau has done already? Really?

The judge said, “There’s a time and a place for everything, Mr. Brazau. A TTC subway car is not Speakers’ Corner at Hyde Park.” When I reported this to a smart friend, he said, “I thought the whole country was a free speech zone.” He knows better, of course, but felt compelled to point out that such freedoms aren’t supposed to be restricted to safe areas.

We have been cowed, journalists and citizens alike, hardly into submission, but certainly into a state of ridiculous delicacy and self-censorship.

As Thomas Jefferson, one of America’s founding fathers, once wrote, “The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. It is its natural manure.”

There are tyrants enough. I only wish there were more for whom nothing — nothing — was sacred, and properly so, because nothing is. But we aren’t all Charlie Hebdo, alas, and never will be.

A crisis at Rolling Stone magazine is a cautionary tale of the harm done to journalism when reporters abandon objectivity and due diligence in order to further a political agenda.

Last month the magazine ran a story by contributing editor Sabrina Rubin Erdely about an alleged 2012 fraternity gang rape of a University of Virginia student. According to the harrowing tale of the victim, “Jackie,” she was taken — sober, she says — to a frat party by her date, a man she trusted. Once there, she was thrown on to a glass coffee, which shattered on impact. Lying on the broken glass, she was then raped by seven men. She left the party and called some friends, who argued over whether she should report the crime. She didn’t.

Upon release, the story understandably evoked passionate indignation amongst unquestioning rape-culture activists. It also caused great anguish on the UVA campus. But to more detached eyes, certain sensational aspects of the story rang false.

The first to query details in a Nov. 24 blog post was Richard Bradley, editor of Worth Magazine. His close reading of the piece and his accusation of “journalistic malpractice” (at Jackie’s request Erdely did not try to contact the accused men, or even speak with Jackie’s friends; she took Jackie’s word for everything she wrote as fact) sparked a wave of further criticism in outlets such as Bloomberg, Reason, Instapundit, the Wall Street Journal, the Los Angeles Times and the Washington Post.

Investigation showed discrepancies between Erdely’s account and reality, such as the fact that Phi Kappa Psi, the frat house in question (which denies Jackie’s charges), had not held any social events during the weekend specified by Jackie, and her date was not a Phi Kappa Psi member. Other questions should have occurred to Erdely. Why would a pre-meditated gang rape, which is what Jackie seemed to be alleging, take place on a coffee table and not a bed? What man in his right mind would expose his genitals to broken glass, and were any of them injured by the glass in a way that may have offered corroborating evidence of Jackie’s allegations? What kind of woman would say to a friend who, she believed, had been raped by seven men and was streaming blood from her wounds, “Why didn’t you have fun with it? A bunch of hot Phi Psi guys?”

But Erdely clearly didn’t question Jackie’s account. She had come to UVA expressly to find stories, the more alarmist the better, to fit a pre-existing theoretical template of a flourishing rape culture on American campuses. Jackie merely fed her what she was longing to hear.

That Erdely’s editor fell in with her unprofessionalism is even more disconcerting. As bigger and bigger holes appeared in the story, Managing Editor Will Dana put out a public letter of apology, saying Rolling Stone was “mistaken in honoring Jackie’s request to not contact the alleged assaulters to get their account.” (This language itself is an update from an earlier version, which said, “Our trust in [Jackie] was misplaced.” Having been accused of blaming the victim, Rolling Stone is now taking full responsibility and is accusing Jackie of nothing.) Dana explained that “We were trying to be sensitive to the unfair shame and humiliation many women feel after a sexual assault….”

Related

Some commentators, incredibly, were angry at Rolling Stone for admitting their professional laxity. Victim advocates at UVA told Slate journalists doing a follow-up story that “questioning the victim is a form of betrayal.” A Salon reporter conceded the article was “imperfect” but adjudged criticism to be part of the “rape denial playbook.” And Kay Stoeffel of New York magazine felt that “forcing reform at UVA, encouraging other women to come forward” outweighed the negatives of an inaccurate story. Stoeffel posed the question, “To what end are we scrutinizing?” The obvious answer — because getting at the objective truth is the function of journalism — seems to have gotten lost in a culture where “narrative” trumps fact-finding.

Journalism is a big tent that can accommodate both reportage and opinion bias. But opinions (including this one) generally belong in the comment section. And even there, arguments must be evidence-based. As a columnist known to be sympathetic to male victims of, among other things, a dysfunctional, anti-male family court system, for example, I have received literally hundreds of narratives by men whose lives have been ruined by women’s allegedly false allegations. I believe most of them, but I don’t write about them, because I can’t get the accused women to talk to me and give me their side of the story.

And that’s how it should be. When journalists and editors use their privilege to advance a political agenda at the expense of objectivity, they cheat the public and cheapen the journalistic profession.

National Post

]]>http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/12/10/barbara-kay-rollings-stone-was-performing-advocacy-not-journalism/feed/0stdUVa Fraternity‘Who’s going to listen to this?': The story behind ‘Serial’ and how This American Life’s spinoff is changing podcasts foreverhttp://news.nationalpost.com/2014/11/13/whos-going-to-listen-to-this-the-story-behind-serial-and-how-this-american-lifes-spinoff-is-changing-podcasts-forever/
http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/11/13/whos-going-to-listen-to-this-the-story-behind-serial-and-how-this-american-lifes-spinoff-is-changing-podcasts-forever/#commentsThu, 13 Nov 2014 20:33:10 +0000http://arts.nationalpost.com/?p=160294

Rabia Chaudry had never listened to a podcast until Serial. Now, every Thursday morning, the first thing she does before getting out of bed is pick up her phone and start streaming the latest episode.

It’s not what Chaudry envisioned when she contacted Sarah Koenig last year in the hopes that the journalist would revisit a 15-year-old murder case. Chaudry had stumbled upon Koenig’s long-ago reporting for the Baltimore Sun, and thought some new coverage — or “something like Dateline” — might help free her younger brother’s friend, Adnan Syed, who is serving a life sentence plus 30 years for murdering his ex-girlfriend, Hae Min Lee.

Koenig, who had since gone to work for public radio, was intrigued, and the seeds for Serial were planted. But Chaudry had second thoughts. “I didn’t listen to podcasts and I didn’t know how big they were,” she recalled. “I actually thought: Should I really go with a radio story? I wonder if this is the right thing to do; maybe this won’t have such a big impact. Who’s going to listen to this?”

The answer turned out to be: a lot of people. Chaudry isn’t the only one with a first-thing-Thursday appointment with the multi-part true-crime investigation. Serial, produced by This American Life and WBEZ Chicago, has reigned supreme on iTunes’ top podcast list since it launched Oct. 3, each episode downloaded or streamed at least 1.2 million times — though that could include multiple listens by some avid followers. Unusual for both a podcast and a work of journalism, it has blossomed into a minor watercooler event, spawning the kind of multimedia chatter and analysis that often surrounds a prestigious HBO drama.

Koenig introduces the story in the first episode as ‘a Shakespearean mash-up’

The crime dates back to Jan. 13, 1999, when Lee, a high school senior, disappeared. Her body was found less than a month later in Baltimore’s infamous Leakin Park; she had been strangled. Koenig introduces the story in the first episode as “a Shakespearean mash-up”: Lee’s parents emigrated from South Korea, Syed came from a devout Muslim family with Pakistani roots, and the teens kept their eight-month relationship a secret from their parents. Classmates in a magnet program, they remained on good terms after their breakup — a sticking point for those who doubt Syed’s guilt. The prosecution painted Syed as a jealous, scorned lover and relied heavily on testimony from one of his drug-dealing friends.

Each week, Koenig zeroes in on one element of the case — the prosecution’s alleged motive, Syed’s alibi, the man who found Lee’s body — and tries to untangle a mess of details and characters, many of whom have only foggy memories of what they were up to on a particular day 15 years ago. So far, we’ve learned, among other tidbits, that the man who found Lee’s body had a history of flashing; Syed was dating another girl by the time Lee was murdered; a potentially damning phone call was made from Syed’s phone the day of Lee’s disappearance, at a time he claims he was at track practice; and the crusading Innocence Project has become involved in Syed’s case.

As Koenig uncovers evidence, she also lets listeners in on the process of investigative journalism. She has conversations with herself as she weighs new evidence, all of which sounds familiar to Baltimore Sun crime reporter Justin George. He helped Koenig with a bit of reporting (he shows up in Episode 3) and wrote a story last month about how Syed’s family has been affected by his incarceration.

“The things that she’s saying on the radio are the things maybe a print reporter would be saying in the newsroom — this kind of talking out loud: This is what I think. Does this make sense? But that doesn’t end up in the finished product,” George said. “As she’s discovering new things, the listeners are discovering new things.”

Koenig is an amiable narrator, not to mention a phenomenal detective. She has broken down a complicated tragedy and distilled it into a coherent narrative while injecting humour and emotion into her storytelling. She’s also honest, apologizing for bad quality on some recordings and admitting to certain biases. Sometimes it seems like she wants Syed to be innocent, other times she wonders aloud if he’s a sociopath, but she doesn’t have the evidence to prove either.

And that’s because, for all of the work she’s done over the past year, each instalment gets us no closer to a definitive truth, at least thus far. That helps to explain the fanaticism. Everyone is desperate to know: Did Syed do it?

Koenig still isn’t sure. And what’s more, she isn’t certain she’ll ever find out. While she spent about a year doing research for the series, she’s still producing episodes only about a week ahead of broadcast — which is one reason she declined to be interviewed. So as Episode 8 comes out, she’s working on Episode 9. That sounds like a lot of pressure, but it’s what the four-woman team (plus Ira Glass, who serves as editorial advisor) knows best.

“We all come from the This American Life side where we are used to deadlines,” said Emily Condon, the show’s production manager. “We are weekly or biweekly broadcasters so that is how we work. A lot of it was just to bake deadlines into the production cycle.”

The investigation is still ongoing as Koenig continues to report out the story. And while the team behind Serial thinks there will be 12 episodes in Season 1, it’s hard to say for sure.

“At any point that could change, if we come across something big that we haven’t anticipated, for instance,” Condon said.

So in the meantime, we just wait for next Thursday. But as with other habit-forming series, we don’t have to wait alone. For the first time, a podcast has elicited the same cottage industry of recappers and analysts that have sprung up around TV shows like Game of Thrones and True Detective. There’s a podcast in response to the podcast, on Slate, not to mention quizzes and parodies. Meanwhile, a Serial subreddit has become a destination where listeners with a heightened sense of familiarity — they call Koenig SK for short — debate the tiniest details, hoping for the eureka moment that reveals whether Syed actually belongs in North Branch Correctional Institution in Western Maryland.

There’s so much, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m hooked, I’m addicted’ that at some point you feel yourself cringing a bit

But as a pop culture obsession, Serial is an outlier, not because it’s a podcast, but because it’s a true story. And that raises a host of questions, including: How are we supposed to talk about this? Fans use the language of popular television; they talk of bingeing and addiction and fear of spoilers. Yet Hae Min Lee is not Laura Palmer. She was an actual teenager. That gets to Chaudry sometimes. The immigration lawyer has been invested in this very real case for years.

“There’s so much, ‘Oh my gosh, I’m hooked, I’m addicted’ that at some point you feel yourself cringing a bit,” she said. “But at the same time, I can’t be thankful enough for the amount of attention.”

That’s to say nothing of the characters who might prefer to remain anonymous. So far in the series, Koenig hasn’t mentioned talking to Lee’s family; George, who helped with the search, isn’t aware that anyone has been able to find them. In the comments section of a Vulture story about the podcast, a reader posted a link to the Facebook page of Jay. One of the threads on Reddit has a list of all the characters, some with links to photos. You start to wonder if the interest in Serial may go the way of the witch hunt that wrongly identified the Boston Marathon bomber.

Chaudry has tried to exert control on the conversation by writing about the show on her blog, Split the Moon. After each episode, she adds her own information and also responds to other coverage of the show. She recently wrote a post about Slate’s podcast — “Serial Spoiler Special” — which she felt was too flip in its reaction to the latest episode. That instalment of Serial dealt less with digging for information than with the news that the Innocence Project — the national litigation non-profit that seeks to exonerate the wrongly-convicted — would be looking into Syed’s case. Slate’s writers expressed disappointment in the episode for veering from the more thrilling detective work. This infuriated Chaudry. On her blog, she fired back: “Basically everyone is really disturbed that their precious time was wasted with the irrelevant detail of THE INNOCENCE PROJECT TAKING THE CASE.”

“I hope I wasn’t too harsh in my response,” Chaudry said. “I just want people to be respectful of the fact that it’s not like the latest episode of True Detective. And dismissing it as, ‘I was kind of bored?’ You have to elevate the conversation a bit more.”

‘I appreciate what they’ve done and what they’ve created’

But even Chaudry is caught up in the cultural implications of being part of a hit show. For example, she knew that the Innocence Project was circling Syed’s case and could have blogged about that, but she chose not to. Although she doesn’t put it in quite these words, she admits she doesn’t want to be responsible for spoilers.

“I’m trying to honour their work,” she said. “It’s not like I have an agreement with them, but I appreciate what they’ve done and what they’ve created and the incredible amount of work they’ve put in.”

Whatever happens with this season is a big question mark, but the success of Serial likely means more seasons to come. Its title is meant to refer to the nature of the show and not murder (Koenig says that future seasons could have nothing to do with crime), so it will be interesting to see whether a new topic can keep listeners hooked. In the meantime, though, the producers behind Serial have created a show that encourages rabid appointment listening and sustained curiosity.

BEIRUT — Syria launched a series of airstrikes targeting a stronghold of the Islamic State in Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) on Saturday, killing at least 25 people, most of whom died when one of the missiles slammed into a crowded bakery, activists said.

The eight airstrikes smashed parts of buildings, set cars alight and crushed people under rubble in the northeastern city of Raqqa, which is ruled by the extremist group, according to video of the aftermath uploaded to social media networks.

At least 16 civilians were killed, alongside nine ISIS fighters, said the Britain-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights. Most of the civilians were killed after at least one strike hit a bakery on a busy street, and the death toll was likely to rise, said the Observatory, which obtains its information from a network of activists on the ground.

The airstrikes were also reported by a Moscow-based activist who uses the name Abu Ibrahim and is a member of a media collective called “Raqqa is being silently slaughtered.” Another group, the Raqqa Media Center, uploaded video of the aftermath which appeared to be genuine and was consistent with AP reporting of the event.

AP Photo/Raqqa Media Center of the Islamic State groupThis image posted by the Raqqa Media Center of the Islamic State group, a militant extremist group, which has been authenticated based on its contents and other AP reporting, shows Syrians inspecting the rubble of a damaged houses following a Syrian government airstrike in the northeastern city of Raqqa, Syria, Saturday, Sept. 6, 2014.

Activist Abu Ibrahim said the local morgue was packed with charred bodies, making identification difficult. He said the dead included at least eight members of one family.

Other strikes hit a government finance building that the Islamic State used as its headquarters and another building used as a jail, Abu Ibrahim said.

It has been virtually impossible for journalists to visit Raqqa, a city of some 500,000 people on the banks of the Euphrates river, since the town fell to the Islamic State group earlier this year. The group routinely abducts reporters and recently beheaded two American journalists in response to U.S. airstrikes against the militants in Iraq.

The Syrian government strikes were part of an uptick of military action against ISIS since it swept into neighbouring Iraq, seizing northern and western swaths of that country and declaring a proto-state straddling the border.

Syrian President Bashar Assad’s government has also suffered heavy losses against ISIS, which killed hundreds of soldiers and pro-government fighters in recent months as it overran oil fields and military bases. There was no immediate government comment on the airstrikes.

It seems every few months, the news cycle produces the name of a well-reputed journalist or academic who has been accused — and presumed guilty — of plagiarism. That “P-word” is the worst label that a writer can receive. I do not know anyone who would take the charge lightly.

We would like to believe that objective concern for intellectual integrity is the primary motivation of the accuser. Often, it is not.Indeed, the seeming uptick in revelations of plagiarism is not the fruit of a “revolution of moral concern”. Rather, it’s the product of “gotcha” journalism, made ever easier by Google, which can be as easily employed by the hack investigator as it is by the principled critic.

The somewhat obscure Marxist philosopher Slavoj Zizek — a hero to many young students and a notable postmodernist — was recently accused of plagiarism by two conservative writers who found that his essay in a 1999 academic journal contained an unattributed and unquoted passage. Zizek weighed in on the incident and a familiar story was revealed: the passage in question was a summary of another author’s work that preceded an analysis and rebuttal, and was not, in fact, the theft of someone else’s ideas.

Zizek’s situation arose from a legitimate misunderstanding. Someone sent him the summary in question and permitted him to use it without attribution. The problem was that this friend had lifted directly from the original and not summarized, leading to the “stolen” text’s appearance in Zizek’s own essay.

This case bears striking resemblance to that of Globe and Mail columnist Margaret Wente from a couple of years ago. Wente was “outed” for having reproduced passages of summary from other writers, and received a thorough lashing in print for her troubles. As well, foreign policy commentator Fareed Zakaria didn’t even bother to defend himself against charges of plagiarism, despite it being quite arguable that he did nothing wrong.

Yet the defendable nature of these offenses has done nothing to dissuade fellow writers from coming down on those accused like a ton of bricks. Plagiarism is plagiarism, they say. Full stop.

That incidents like this ought to be avoided is clear: journalists should write their own précis and not simply repurpose those of others. But the sin here is absolutely not of plagiarism, but sloppiness. Anyone who thinks that lifting a summary of an idea or event, even intentionally, is morally equal to cutting and pasting someone’s original argument or analysis doesn’t understand the nature or the stakes of academic dishonesty.

Slate’s Rebecca Schuman has written that, “Zizek’s defense—that lifting [a] ‘purely informative’ summary does not count as real plagiarism — is not correct.” But isn’t it? If the distinction between thieving original work and recycling a summary is real, shouldn’t the definition of “real plagiarism” account for it?

All of this would be less concerning if the motivation for plagiarism-outing were indeed a concern for integrity. Unfortunately and commonly, though, the accusers have an ulterior reason for their pursuit: usually a difference of opinion or worldview with the author in question. Would anyone doubt that the two conservatives who discovered Zizek’s mistake were not delighted by their find, as it could serve to make their ideological opponent appear illegitimate?

The consequence of journalism’s fetish for plagiarism-outing is a devaluing of real cases of theft. To a certain extend, we are all guilty of plagiarism to a degree; none of us creates the language used to write, or the subjects common to most popular magazines, blogs, and op-ed pages. Thoughts are as much a product of exchange, recycling, and reformulation as they are the domain of individual talent and reflection. Yet with our current relativized understanding of plagiarism — where every minor transgression signals the fall of the skies — due attention for the real cases is bound to be missed.

National Post

Jackson Doughart is an editor of the Prince Arthur Herald and founder of The Hustings (www.hustings.ca).

For Canadians, and for journalists everywhere, Egypt’s slide into full-blown dictatorship is symbolized by the outrageous seven-year prison sentence given to former Al-Jazeera English bureau chief Mohamed Fahmy. Egypt’s ruling junta claimed that the dual Canadian-Egyptian citizen had “falsified news” and provided assistance to the Muslim Brotherhood. Much as the Soviets justified any form of domestic persecution by reference to the need to hunt domestic saboteurs, Egypt’s generals now use the pretext of its anti-Brotherhood campaign as an excuse to destroy any hint of domestic political opposition or true press freedom.

The real “crime” committed by Mr. Fahmy is that he worked for the Al Jazeera TV network, which is now treated like a terrorist organization by the Egyptian government. Like all dictatorships, Egypt’s junta cannot tolerate any form of truly independent reporting. The very fact that Al Jazeera journalists reported the views of Brotherhood leaders was taken as proof that they were part of a sinister Islamist conspiracy.

Canada’s response to all this has been publicly tepid. But since our diplomats and foreign-affairs staffers may well be working behind the scenes to broker a deal with Egypt, it is too soon to criticize their efforts. As Neil Macdonald of the CBC has noted, “the current government was a tremendous help when CBC journalist Mellissa Fung was kidnapped in Afghanistan back in 2008, and that was all behind the scenes, too.” We can only hope that something similar is in the works to secure Mr. Fahmy’s release.

As for the Egyptian government of President Abdel-Fatah el-Sissi, his kangaroo courts are a disgrace to Egypt. Many in the West applauded when he took power back from the incompetent Islamist Mohamed Morsi. Indeed, it was hoped that he might become a more enlightened and humane version of Hosni Mubarak. Some hawkish Canadian journalists even acted as mouthpieces for the Egyptian junta when it imprisoned Canadians Tarek Loubani and John Greyson, on equally absurd pretexts, in 2013. But since then, Egypt’s junta has implemented a reign of terror, featuring sham trials in which dozens of ordinary citizens are summarily sentenced to death en masse for the crime of being at a protest. The fact that the President now enjoys public support for many of these measures does not excuse their brutality. (In Syria, Bashar al-Assad also enjoys wide support — but that doesn’t make him any less of a butcher.)

Stephen Harper’s government has long touted its “principled” take on the Middle East — with a strong emphasis on supporting Israel’s democratic government in its battles with terrorists and violent neighbours. That same principled streak needs to be brought to bear against Egypt, a country that now has become an out-and-out dictatorship, and which has essentially kidnapped a Canadian citizen. This is the sort of behaviour one expects from rogue states such as Iran.

There must be more to our Middle East policy than supporting Israel and fighting terrorism. Those are worthy goals. But when a regime abducts a Canadian citizen and throws him into what is in effect an Arab gulag, the time for mere tut-tutting is over. Egypt has become an enemy of Canadian values.

jkay@nationalpost.comjonkay
— Jonathan Kay is Managing Editor for Comment at the National Post, and a Fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies in Washington, D.C.

]]>http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/06/24/jonathan-kay-mohamed-fahmys-despicable-treatment-symbolizes-egypts-slide-into-dictatorship/feed/0stdEgypt_Journalist_Detained_20140129.jpgCultural Studies: The Stursbergians vs. The Gzowskiteers — Why it’s time for the nerds to stand up for their CBChttp://news.nationalpost.com/2014/05/17/cultural-studies-the-stursbergians-vs-the-gzowskiteers-why-its-time-for-the-nerds-to-stand-up-for-their-cbc/
http://news.nationalpost.com/2014/05/17/cultural-studies-the-stursbergians-vs-the-gzowskiteers-why-its-time-for-the-nerds-to-stand-up-for-their-cbc/#commentsSat, 17 May 2014 14:30:51 +0000http://arts.nationalpost.com/?p=148122

On my first day on the job at the CBC I was locked out of the building. So was my boss, Michael Enright, along with everybody else. It was September 2005 and management had thrown staff out before they could strike. When the bosses and the union finally reached a deal, I started my career among the defeated. As I would soon learn, there are two CBCs. Mine was the one that lost. It’s been losing ever since.

The divide is not simply a rift between labour and management. It’s not between radio and TV, either, though it often shakes down that way. It’s a rift between the public broadcasters of the CBC and the other guys.

One side is the CBC of bespectacled young producers who subscribe to podcasts like 99% Invisible and Radiolab, who study the craft of radio like it’s Talmud, who learn to write code on weekends and who dream of someday telling a story as well as Ira Glass. The other is the CBC of transplanted Muchmusic VJs and washed-up alternative rockers from the ’90s, wooed into the building years ago by middle-aged executives who thought they were cool.

One is the CBC of brainy poli-sci and English lit grads who chose poorly, who could have been raking it in as lawyers, but who wanted to make documentaries and annoy politicians instead. The other is the CBC of hungry j-school grads, trained to dutifully rip headlines from newspapers and package them into five-minute cable news segments, over and over again.

One is the CBC of Linden MacIntyre, who just prematurely ended a career of rigorous investigative journalism in order to save the jobs of younger colleagues, and to put a recognizable face to the budget cuts. The other is the CBC of Peter Mansbridge, who won’t disclose the celebrity-sized salary he receives for his third-place newscast, and who pretends he doesn’t understand why taking enormous speaking fees from the oil companies he covers on the air taints his journalism.

The Stursbergians handily beat the snot out of the Gzowskiteers

One is the CBC of Gzowski. The other is the CBC of Stursberg.

The Stursbergians handily beat the snot out of the Gzowskiteers, and have since had free reign to run the joint into the ground. Their dream is a CBC with sitcoms like CBS and news like CNN. It’s been a flop from the start, but no amount of failure has stopped them from doubling down on their shabby vision.

Did they not see this coming?

Was CBC president Hubert Lacroix surprised to lose NHL broadcast rights to Rogers? Did he have no idea that he might be stripped of a major revenue source and left with a coming void in his programming schedule and no production budget to fill it? Did the Internet also take him unawares? Had he no idea that advertising dollars were shifting quickly from television to online, even as the CBC approved one lousy and expensive TV series after the next? Does he still think the CBC’s digital strategy, which will miss its target of increasing online spending to a measly 5% by 2015, is anything but pathetic? When he invested in an expensive “news renewal” rebranding effort to give CBC journalism a slick new look while simultaneously laying off actual CBC journalists (I was among them, but I’m totally over it) did he think no one would notice?

I want to support the CBC, but not that CBC. Not his, not Richard Stursberg’s, not Kirstine Stewart’s, and not that of Heather Conway, the current boss of English CBC, a marketer from the banking industry whose plan to deal with the crisis includes more product placement, more cheap reality shows, and a possible partnership with Vice, because they’re cool.

I can’t support a CBC that wants so badly to be cool. I would support a CBC run by the nerds

I can’t support a CBC that wants so badly to be cool. I would support a CBC run by the nerds.
It’s time for the CBC’s radio nerds, news nerds, politics nerds, documentary nerds and comedy nerds to storm the gates and take the place back. The public broadcasters of the CBC need to oust those executives who have always been embarrassed by public broadcasting, who have played dress-up as Hollywood moguls on the public’s dime. The CBC’s gross experiment of emulating corporate media must be fully and finally abandoned, discredited, and discarded. Let the nerds have their revenge.

The pierced jocks can leave, along with their hockey. The Olympics can go, the dramas and sitcoms and reality shows too, the music streaming service, the cable news channel, anything with Kevin O’Leary, maybe even Radio 2. We can get celebrities and sports elsewhere, everywhere.

The battle now is not with government. It’s a fight to use whatever resources are left to get people to care again about the CBC, to strike out with a clear and principled vision that provides a strong answer to the question “why do we even need you?” Petitions won’t do it. It has to come from the content. It has to come from within.

Over the years I’ve more and more felt that Newfoundland’s personality, the peculiar charm and draw of the place, is the product of a “dynamic equilibrium.” The phrase might sound a little airy, like something that slipped past the jargon guards in some sociology department. But what I mean by it is concrete: that Newfoundland’s character and culture result from the play between the people and life of the tiny historic and scattered outports and the larger concentration of energies, capital and intellect in St. John’s, the capital.

One refreshes or reinforces the other; the sharpness of outport life gains contrast from the more urban and collective enterprises of the city. The city picks up the currents, the living language and play that have always been core elements of the outports. It’s both a rivalry and a partnership, underwritten by humour on both sides.

Rarely has this relationship been so perfectly incarnated as in a friend of mine, who passed away suddenly and prematurely this week at age 63: John Furlong, a broadcaster and producer at CBC. He belonged as few do to St. John’s, but over time he became an emblem of the balance and blend of outport and town, which gives Newfoundland its distinct feel and energy.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZooNIKu57Rs&w=640&h=390]

John Furlong was for four decades a labourer in the fields of journalism. He was mild in demeanour and habit; he gave off waves of shyness and reserve. But all shyness and reserve melted when he was about his work. It’s not that he turned loud or boisterous — he had those antique qualities, good manners — but he brought to his stories and interviews the kind of fearlessness and directness that is only a dream for the majority of us who ply this dubious/glorious trade. No question too direct, no line of inquiry off limits, no discussion too awkward if the story justified it: Such was John’s fearless code.

In the newsrooms he worked he was treasured for his dark and riotous Irish turns of phrase, sometimes reflecting on his own life — he recorded a saying of his mother: “Don’t wax the stairs; father’s drinking again” — but more often arrows aimed at the irresistible and multitudinous targets of Newfoundland politics, weather and everyday life. He had a wicked mind and a gifted tongue, and more brass than most orchestras.

I got to know him well when he was the shepherd of CBC’s St. John’s morning show, during the brutal Mount Cashel affair. Each morning he would call me in for “idle conversation.” Often an hour or hour-and-a-half later I’d leave his tiny office and find he had seeded the thoughts I was about to write, broadened the subject, and even pointed the way to certain phrases. It was a kindly guile of his to, as it were, pre-edit me, to put some real stuff in my usual spray of words. I was, needless to say, the better for it.

John Furlong was a Townie down to his DNA

After the terrible swiftness of the disease that took him, I saw over the last couple of days many people fixing on one role in particular John served, that of host of the famous Newfoundland Fisherman’s Broadcast (as it was until CBC timidly bent to the levelling political correctness of our age and neutered it to the Fisheries Broadcast — but to spirits like Furlong, whatever management may have felt, the original name was the name).

This is a program of the outports. It has always been dedicated to the small boat fisherman, the plant workers and trawlermen all along the endless coastline of the island and Labrador. John Furlong was a Townie down to his DNA. Yet never was there a more perfect host, never did outport and town meet in such glorious and supportive equilibrium, than when John sat in the chair of Newfoundland’s most iconic program. John and the broadcast were made for each other, because John was a complete Newfoundlander, with an insatiable curiosity about the province and its people, who reached beyond his own intense affection for St. John’s to take on and glory in the life of the coasts and harbour and bays. I think it was on this program, towards the end of his crowded career, that he and Newfoundland most bonded.

In this column I merely wish to say goodbye to a real friend and a deep talent, a wise and clever Newfoundlander. For those close to him, friends like Bob Wakeham and emphatically his wife Gerry and their children, it has been a very painful few weeks. But surely everyone takes some happiness at the fine display of affection and regard that has been everywhere on evidence. We shall miss him.

On Monday I wrote an opinion piece for this newspaper which criticized the sensationalistic fashion in which the Journal de Montreal reported the death of a woman in a Montreal subway station last week.

Little did I know how that piece would lead me down a rabbit hole of unsupported reporting at Quebecor. In a nutshell, an article which appeared in Monday’s Quebecor properties under the byline of Maxime Deland contains two serious problems. The first is an introductory sentence which a police spokesperson has confirmed to me is false, and the second is a quote from another police spokesperson which appears to have been deliberately taken out of context and misinterpreted.

But let me back up, and start from the beginning.

After my piece appeared in Monday’s National Post, I received an invitation to join Brian Lilley on his Sun News Network show to discuss the issue. Knowing that Sun News is owned by Quebecor, I expected Lilley to attempt to defend the honour of his parent company.

What I didn’t expect was for him to quote a Montreal police spokesperson confirming that it was Naima Rharouity’s hijab which became caught in the escalator and caused her death. This was at odds with the testimony of several eyewitnesses who had spoken to Montreal Gazette reporter Christopher Curtis, and contrary to the Montreal police’s own statement the day of the incident, which denied it was her hijab which had caught.

If you’re wondering why it matters what got caught and in what order, I’m with you, it doesn’t matter. But Quebecor made it matter by publishing irresponsible, unsupported and sensationalistic speculation about this woman’s hijab being what caused her death — and that reporting was picked up on in comment threads, social media and elsewhere as more grist for the ugly debates about religious accommodation that have been playing out in Quebec for months. Quebecor has refused to retract their original claim, and has doubled down repeatedly.

Related

I was surprised by Lilley’s information, and once I got home I called the Montreal police’s media information line and spoke with Sergeant Laurent Gingras. I asked if the police were in fact confirming it was the hijab which caught and caused her death. Sergeant Gingras told me that it was an article of clothing, but not a hijab, which caught in the escalator. He said that, after an article of clothing became caught, her hijab and hair were also pulled into the escalator mechanism.

Satisfied that the gruesome story conformed to what had originally been reported by everyone but Quebecor, I took to Twitter to call out Brian Lilley for his bad information. He pointed me to the source of that information, which was another Quebecor story, dated Feb. 3 and under the byline of Maxime Deland, the reporter who had originally reported a hijab was to blame for the death, despite police denials.

Montreal police confirmed on Monday that the article of clothing which could have caused the death of Naima Rharouity was indeed a hijab and not a scarf.

“After further checks, the investigators are able to confirm that it was a hijab,” said Danny Richer, spokesperson for the Montreal police.

This was thoroughly perplexing. I called back the Montreal police media line, hoping to get to the bottom of this increasingly confusing saga. This time I spoke to Jean-Pierre Brabant, another spokesperson for the Montreal police.

He confirmed what Sgt. Gingras had told me, that the police were giving out the information that while a cause of death remained undetermined, an article of clothing which was not a hijab was what became caught first (presumably this is the scarf witnesses referred to) and only after did the woman’s hijab and hair become caught in the escalator.

I asked about the quote from Richer. Brabant told me that Richer had been confirming that the woman was wearing a hijab at the time of the incident in that quote, not that it was what got caught as Deland clearly implies.

After conferring with colleagues I called Brabant back and read him the first sentence of Deland’s article, in French as it appears above, and asked him if it was accurate. “No. That’s false,” he told me.

I then took to Twitter to offer Deland a chance to respond, where I confronted him with the denial from Brabant. He responded, “I’m on the phone with him. And he doesn’t know what you’re talking about.”

So I call back the media line, and speak to Brabant for the third time. His patience was, understandably, wearing thin. He repeated the same things he told me the first two times we spoke, and concluded “As for what Deland writes, I can’t control that.”

For the record, here’s his account of the information the police have, for the third time:

“It’s too early to say what caused the death, that’s for the coroner to determine. On the police side we know three things got caught: an article of clothing, a hijab and her hair. We also know the order that they got caught, that it was the article of clothing, then the hijab and the hair.”

Finally, a police source told a colleague of mine that Deland had misrepresented police statements, with the source complaining that the Quebecor reporter has persisted in claiming the woman was killed by her hijab despite the police telling him that the evidence did not support that conclusion.

It seems clear to me that this reporter and his editors sought to sell newspapers and drive traffic to their website by running with an unsubstantiated rumour, which the police were actively denying. They did so despite the consequences for a province already facing its fair share of demons in the context of the debate over the proposed Charter of Values.

I would file a complaint with the Quebec Press Council, but Quebecor, which produces over 40% of the news consumed in Quebec, withdrew from the voluntary organization in 2010. The best I and anyone else can do is simply call attention to this attack on basic journalistic standards, and hope for new, independent media outlets in Quebec that can challenge the Quebecor hegemony.

National Post

Ethan Cox is a Montreal-based journalist and senior partner at CauseComms: Communications for the Common Good.

It is time to infuse Christmas cheer and year-end goodwill into my relations with the disgraced Toronto Star. Columnist Rosie DiManno’s Monday reply to my column last Saturday was based mainly on unexceptionable quotes from me — so in a sense, I wrote much of her article. I agree with her that Barbara (my wife) and Barbara’s former husband (and my dear friend) George Jonas are certainly better writers than I am. My only objections to what DiManno wrote are that Barbara has not had “five” husbands, that she has never had cosmetic surgery, and that my “remainder-bin biographies of dead people” (most biographies are of dead people) have sold a quarter-million copies.

My recollection of our meeting 13 years ago is different, also.

I recall that she threatened to jump off Christie Blatchford’s roof if I didn’t hire her, and I said that “That would be an over-reaction.” And when someone else said she wanted to show if she could fly, I said “So jump.” But it doesn’t much matter, and is no basis on which to embitter relations for 13 years. (My clearer memory of that party is of another female journalist who offered me sexual intercourse in exchange for an interview, an offer I declined with thanks and a commendation for her enterprise.)

Since my television interview with Toronto mayor Rob Ford two weeks ago, Mr. Ford has back-pedaled about the controversial claims he then made about Toronto Star reporter Daniel Dale’s 2012 visit to the periphery of Mr. Ford’s property. (During our interview, Mr. Ford had said: “He’s taking pictures of little kids. I don’t want to say that word, but you start thinking ‘what’s this guy all about?’)

Mr. Ford admitted he was only repeating what his neighbour told him he had seen Mr. Dale doing. (This aspect of Mr. Ford’s account was the subject of the follow-up questions that DiManno, and CBC Radio host Carol Off and other members of the Star claque, have falsely claimed I did not ask.) Mr. Dale is avenged. The mayor is chastened for his factual liberties and reminded of the virtues of the truth and of moderation in all things. I got a good story. Moreover, I am — as I told the CBC I would be if the mayor’s account proved inaccurate, despite my repeated questions — “disappointed” (to quote the chief of police of Toronto on a related subject).

Mr. Dale was traduced, but he was not defamed, by Mr. Ford’s comments; and no one said anything about pedophilia except the Star and its allies. Ford’s cascade of apologies has brought all those who have opined on this subject to the same place.

In another aspect of the Ford controversy, a number of people have angrily sent me copies of a letter that the disgraceful John Honderich — the chair of the board of Torstar Corporation (the Star’s owner) and a former Star publisher — assumedly approved for distribution to 70 prominent Torontonians, urging them to agitate for the mayor’s removal in mid-term, and taking them to task as moral outcasts of the community for not joining in the full Christmas revelry of the Star’s attempted putsch.

The newspaper contacted 70 prominent Torontonians, urging them to agitate for Ford’s removal — and threatening to print their names if they didn’t join in

Of course, Honderich has a perfect right to send letters to whomever he chooses — either directly, or by means of using Star reporter Marco Oved as his sock puppet (as he presumably has done in this case, since it was sent with, and in furtherance of, Honderich’s own published editorial). He even has the right to strain the credulity and indulgence of addressees with the sophomoric tocsin: “The Star is reaching out … This is for the historical record … To be clear, we are asking specifically for your views on the mayor’s political record, his behaviour and if he remains fit for office. We will be publishing the names and responses of all we contact. If you do not wish to respond, we appreciate if you would tell us why. If we receive no response, we will publish that also.” But it is disgraceful behaviour, and Honderich and the Star owe an apology to all those whom they attempted to intimidate.

This letter-writing campaign was the sequel to Honderich’s editorial comment on December 5 (copies of which were helpfully included with the 70 letters, so as to make clear whose clout, and whose threats, were behind the outreach campaign). In that column, he declared: “So where are Toronto’s business, cultural, academic, and moral leaders when it comes to the Rob Ford saga? … The silence has been deafening. Where are the well-reasoned op-ed pieces in newspapers? Where are the full-page ads from concerned thought leaders?”

Robin Roberts thanked her longtime girlfriend, Amber Laign, for support as the anchor battled a rare illness this past year in a year-end post published Sunday on the ABC News anchor's Facebook pageRobin Roberts thanked her longtime girlfriend, Amber Laign, for support as the anchor battled a rare illness this past year <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=378662368936659&set=a.216479948488236.54140.100003786976400&quot; target="_blank">in a year-end post published Sunday on the ABC News anchor's Facebook page</a>.
The message, which follows Roberts' battle with a life-threatening illness, is the first time the <em>Good Morning America</em> anchor has publicly acknowledged her 10-year, same-sex relationship with Laign, a massage therapist from the San Francisco Bay Area.
https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=378662368936659&set=a.216479948488236.54140.100003786976400
Roberts' post was confirmed by ABC News spokeswoman Heather Riley.
Sunday was the anniversary of Roberts' 100-day milestone following a bone marrow transplant in September 2012 for treatment of myelodysplastic syndrome, a rare blood and bone marrow disease.
In May, Grand Central Publishing announced Roberts, one of the most popular figures in morning TV news, will write a memoir about her battle with MDS and the life lessons she continues to gather following her return to <em>GMA</em> last February.
[related_links /]

Of course, those slackers! Why aren’t they shoring up the Star’s collapsing revenues when it is trying to short-circuit the legal process and dump a mayor in the middle of his mandate with no due process or legal formalities — what has become of those tightwad shirker-advertisers?

Honderich continued: “Where are the petitions or outraged interviews? Only one-time Ford ally Denzil Minnan-Wong [a city councilor] showed real leadership in heading the motion to have Ford stripped of his powers.” No, he showed rank opportunism in trying to put himself forward as unelected mayor after seconding Honderich’s attempted mid-term coup.

“And what of the city’s top bankers?” he asked. Has Honderich taken complete leave of his senses? Are the country’s big banks to wade into this squalid municipal fracas? This is pretty wingy, not unlike Rosie threatening, under the influence of a joint, to jump off the roof of Christie Blatchford’s house 13 years ago if I didn’t raid her away from Honderich.

The mayor’s conduct has been outrageous and unacceptable, and it has not offended the Star alone. But the Star does not make and break mayors

The attack by the mayor’s brother on police chief Bill Blair, Honderich wrote, “was downright vicious … And certainly this newspaper has never been so successfully villainized as was done by the Fords on their weekly radio show. For us, there has been a price to pay.”

No, I think not: No martyrdom for the Star here. And it has been constantly villainized, with good reason, for over a century. For all its inanities, the Star can weather the grumpiness of the Ford brothers. In trying to usurp the role of police, courts, and the provincial Parliament, to assist in its own effort to depose an elected mayor, and replace him with the unfeasible Olivia Chow (whom the Star never ceases to trumpet), the newspaper has presumed to chastise civic leaders in every field for not joining in with their corporate egomania.

Of course, the mayor’s conduct has been outrageous and unacceptable, and it has not offended the Star alone. But the Star does not make and break mayors. The people choose mayors, and apart from the voters, only the courts and, in extreme cases, the provincial legislature, have the right to deselect them. We will see if the mayor’s confessions of wrongdoing and apologies and promises of abstemiousness are sincere. If they are, he deserves the respect due someone who kicks a dangerous and bad habit. In any case, barring new and terribly egregious acts, the voters will decide, not the disgraced posturers and power-seekers of the Star.

Honderich concluded his article: “Just imagine if the mayor of New York, Chicago, or Boston had acted like Rob Ford. Can you ever envision the leaders of those cities remaining so silent?” Not since a Star reporter misstated the number of graven presidential images on Mount Rushmore in an article about me 21 years ago, have I felt such an irresistible urge to refresh the Star’s official memory of a few historic facts.

One of New York’s greatest and most popular mayors, James J. Walker, remained in office without a peep from civic leaders until 1932, when then New York governor Franklin D. Roosevelt forced his retirement, and he left the country and did not return for two years until assured that then President Roosevelt would not prosecute him for embezzlement and tax evasion, which he could have done. Boston’s James Michael Curley was imprisoned in his fourth term as mayor after being convicted of racketeering, amid a resigned civic quietism (and was pardoned by President Truman). The Democratic Party of Chicago has been in office in Cook County, Illinois uninterruptedly for 84 years and the Cermak-Kelly-Nash-Arvin-Daley machine has systematically removed to its own profit everything except the copper roofs of the city’s churches for its own enrichment and all manner of local officials have been convicted, as have legions of Chicago judges and other office-holders; and the leaders of all three cities have rarely uttered a pathetic little DiManno-ish squeak of objection. Yet even the righteous Daniel Dale effectively admitted that Rob Ford has saved the city $638-million over four years, and is financially unblemished.

Canadian Museum of Civilization

A more apt question from Honderich would be what the civic leaders of those cities would have done if they had ever received, on behalf of the chairman of a local third-rate newspaper, such a bare-faced attempt at ideological blackmail as Honderich authorized on this occasion, and which severely irritated those who sent it on to me.

It won’t fly — any of it. The mayor has been administratively competent but a behavioral embarrassment. the Star’s attempted coup was a failure, and the hare-brained effort to dragoon civic leaders, bankers and advertisers into the plot backfired. Rosie’s column of reply to me on Monday was so feeble, I take it as an olive branch in the last gasp of the Star’s failed attempt to purge the city’s elected mayor without any due process. I offer some resolutions for 2014.

May the mayor keep on the wagon, stay away from crack, and keep his facts straight. May the Star stop trying to be Toronto’s nasty nanny. Rosie should keep (all) her feet on the ground, but not by jumping off the roof. I accept her incoherent peace offering and I will not reinitiate hostilities. Merry Christmas to everyone, and baronial seasonal wishes upon the Star and all its Pharisees, that they may be shrived, and that grace may be restored to them.

The man at the center of the maelstrom sat across from the parents of a dead girl, his head cradled in his hands. He rocked slightly. I’m sorry, he kept saying. I’m so sorry.

He was tanned and reasonably fit, with closely cropped hair that he had allowed to assume its natural gray color. He wore a perfectly cut pinstripe suit and a sharp gray tie, befitting talismans of his status as a commanding corporate chieftain. The people gathered in an expansive suite at the luxury hotel One Aldwych in the heart of London, a five-star stop that catered equally to Saudi investors and Hollywood celebrities, were all fixed on Rupert Murdoch.

The billionaire was used to being the focus of attention among the powerful, whether they were asking for favors or complaining about the way he ran the English-speaking world’s most important media empire. Some competitors could boast a greater market value than Murdoch’s News Corp. None was more influential. Murdoch had become a man beyond states, someone who sliced Gordian knots rather than trying to untangle them, a self-styled buccaneer with little but contempt for self-satisfied establishment worthies or narrow-minded government regulators.

Like one of his own satellites floating above the earth, by 2012 Rupert Murdoch floated above the borders and limitations of the practices, laws, and folkways of mere nations. His company served millions of readers and viewers on five continents, with a strong presence in the English-language powers of Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States, as well as in China, Europe, India, and Latin America.

Murdoch had long ago become one of Britain’s most powerful figures and cast an even greater shadow in his native Australia. Through the New York Post, his company enforced a kind of discipline among politicians who hoped to operate in the largest city in the United States. Through Fox News and the Wall Street Journal, his journalists shaped popular and elite currents within the Republican Party in the States. And with its movie studios and its broadcast, cable, and satellite TV ventures, News Corp had the financial muscle to ride out losses elsewhere in the empire.

He had used flattery, disdain, and even remoteness to handle presidents, prime ministers, and popes. He had granted audiences to the aspirants and pretenders seeking to join those ranks. To encounter the ordinary people his publications had wronged was a rare event.

Yet here Rupert Murdoch sat, human, even vulnerable. What else could he be, given the other people in the room? Bob Dowler was an IT consultant with a thin crown of white hair, an imposing presence, and an impassive expression. His wife, Sally, her face pinched and gaunt, was a teacher. They were in their fifties, roughly the same age as Murdoch’s daughter from his first marriage. And they had endured unimaginable pain, partly because of one of his most famous properties.

The Dowlers’ daughter Milly had been a 13-year-old with a quick smile. She was a saxophone fan who liked to gossip about boys with her older sister, Gemma. On March 21, 2002, dressed in classic British school uniform — blazer, Oxford shirt, and skirt — she left her school in the Surrey countryside at seven minutes past three in the afternoon. Twenty minutes later, she was on a train home. She got off at her stop. A witness spotted her a hundred yards away at about six minutes past four. After that, Milly was never seen again.

For most of 2002, Milly’s parents and sister had no idea what had happened to her. The disappearance became fodder for hundreds of headlines speculating on her fate. The police focused on exactly the wrong clues, poring through Milly’s journal writings for proof of tension between the parents. They looked for evidence of conflict between the two sisters: Gemma was the favorite, Milly wrote. The absent girl was unhappy. Perhaps she had run away. Some investigators fixated on her father’s claimed interest in pornography.

The outcome was as gruesome as any tabloid editor could imagine. Milly’s bones were found months later, dumped in woodlands. It took until June 2011 for prosecutors to try and convict a man for her killing. Police had missed earlier clues tying Milly’s death to the man, who had been found guilty in two previous deaths.

The Dowlers’ pain and anger were heightened by the disclosure that people working for Murdoch’s News of the World had hacked into Milly’s cell phone voice mail messages to mine them for fodder. Even in death, her privacy had been violated. The Dowlers’ phones had been targeted, too.

They were not the only ones. In late 2005, aides to princes William and Harry had asked police to investigate whether their phones had been hacked. Two men working for the News of the World — the royals editor and a private investigator — were convicted and sent to jail. Celebrities, politicians, and sports stars were added to a growing list of people who had been targeted in the intervening years. But few in the United Kingdom and no one outside it cared until the Dowlers, an ordinary family who had faced a prolonged and extraordinary grief over their dead daughter, were shown to have been victimized as well.

The public fury struck at the heart of Murdoch’s media empire

The police swung into high gear, while politicians who had sought Murdoch’s blessing lined up to denounce him in Parliament. Rival newspapers that had largely turned a blind eye to such behavior by the Murdoch press (and some of its rivals) turned on News Corp, which sold approximately two of every five national newspapers purchased by readers. The nation rose as one in revulsion.

The public fury struck at the heart of Murdoch’s media empire — at some of his much-beloved newspaper properties that were the financial cornerstones of his print business and were supervised by some of his most trusted lieutenants and likely heirs. Britain had been the launching pad for Murdoch’s international growth beyond his native Australia. The scandal-driven tabloids News of the World and the Sun served as his financial base to buy two of the nation’s most respected papers, the Times of London and the Sunday Times, as well as to expand into the United States.

His second son, James, his presumed successor and the company’s third-ranking executive, held responsibility for the company’s operations in the United Kingdom. Rupert ran News Corp like a family business, though its shares were publicly traded on NASDAQ. Together with his adult children, Murdoch controlled roughly 40% of News Corp’s voting shares. He had made it clear that the next leader of the company (perhaps after a brief caretaker period) would be someone who shared his last name.

Anthony Bolant/REUTERS<strong>By Jamie Portman</strong>
The people behind Disney’s <em>The Lion King</em> didn’t know they were creating a masterpiece back in the early 1990s.
Neither did they expect it to become one of the most beloved animated movies of all time. Even now, 17 years later, producer Don Hahn remembers his astonishment over what happened.
“It was regarded as the B movie when we were doing it,” he recalls. “People were flocking to the other movies we were working on at the studio. This was seen as an experimental film and a kind of second-tier film.”
With <em>The Lion King</em> set to return to the big screen Sept. 16 — in 3D, no less — and with its much-anticipated Blu-ray release happening at the start of October, it will be reuniting with old fans and also seeking new audiences. Hahn is excited over these prospects for a legendary film cited by Disney as the highest-grossing animated film of all time, but he still remembers what a huge gamble it seemed to be back in 1994.<!--more-->
“Having a rock star [Elton John] do the music was unconventional. So was doing a movie set in Africa with no human characters. But then, I think we started to see three or four months before the movie was released that it was a good movie, and we started to share that with the press, and they started to tell us that it was a great movie.
“We worked really hard on it, and we tried to make it something special and unique, to take risks, and do the best we could. It’s always flattering and humbling that people liked it — but no, we didn’t see any of this coming.”
But Hahn is quick to emphasize that <em>The Lion King</em> was, and is, a triumph of hand-drawn animation, an art form that some in the industry see as obsolete, thanks to the computer revolution. Furthermore, Hahn wants to correct any perception that the adventures of Simba and his friends have in some way been converted into computer-generated imagery.
The bottom line with the Blu-ray editions and the film’s big-screen rebirth in 3D is that the integrity of the original has been protected at all times.
In fact, Hahn joined forces with directors Rob Minkoff and Roger Allers to monitor every single image of the film during the 3D conversion process. He knows there have been complaints from purists, but he says they should wait until they see the movie.
“The most important thing to me was to involve the original filmmakers. Hand-drawn animation is nothing to run away from. I think it’s something to celebrate. It’s a beautiful art form, and we wanted to sustain it. It never ever crossed anybody’s mind to turn it into something that would be considered a CG [computer-generated] movie.”
<em>The Lion King</em> is returning to theatres two months after Disney’s hand-drawn <em>Winnie the Pooh</em> premiered in theatres to the best reviews of any animated film so far released this year. “That’s something we’re really proud of,” Hahn says. “This is a great art form, and there’s no need to be anything other than celebratory about it.”
He sees the return of<em> The Lion King</em> as an occasion for celebration, as well, and is delighted with how it looks in 3D. After all, it serves the filmmakers’ vision of achieving in animated form the sort of epic sweep you might expect from a David Lean film.
“We wanted Africa to be part of the film. Just as in<em> Lawrence of Arabia</em>, the landscape was the star of that film,” Hahn says. Which is another reason why the studios wanted <em>The Lion King</em> back in cinemas.
“<em>The Lion King</em> hasn’t been on the big screen for 17 years,” Hahn says. “There’s a generation of kids who haven’t seen it in a theatre, and, meanwhile, technology’s kind of caught up with us so we can take a hand-drawn movie and convert it to 3D and actually have it look decent.”
Furthermore, the film hasn’t even been available on home entertainment for nearly eight years, so the studio has taken the opportunity to bring it out for the first time on Blu-ray.
“This is very much in the tradition of what Walt Disney used to do with his films,” Hahn points out. “Every seven years, <em>Snow White</em> would come out, or <em>Fantasia</em> would come out, to a new audience. That’s what’s driving this: to take a new audience and expose it to this movie again in the best possible way.”
Robert Neuman, the 3D stereographer in charge of the conversion process, says he has a daughter who has probably viewed <em>The Lion King</em> 100 times. “Now this will give her the opportunity to see the film again — but with fresh eyes.”
It took Neuman and his team four months to complete the conversion. Neuman reviewed 1,197 individual scenes and created a “3D script” for the entire film. This was done to map out the depth of individual 3D effects in order to enhance the emotion of each scene.
In using technology to “sculpt depth” into a scene, Neuman was constantly making decisions as to how much was appropriate. He says that 3D always has to be used intelligently — because extremes can be wearing on the audience.
“A depth score of 10 is the maximum amount of depth I can give to meet comfort levels,” he says. “You have to achieve a balancing act between immersion and comfort. It’s like marathon running. If you were to run at the same speed always, you would never make it to the finish line. Marathon runners get there by modulating their speed. It’s the same when you must mirror what’s happening emotionally in the film.”
The top priority for Neuman was to honour the glory of traditional hand-drawn animation.
“The beauty of that is what audiences respond to when they see the great classic animated features. But if you take this traditional animated film and put it into a stereoscopic space, it all of a sudden takes on this new life. It has all the character of the original <em>Lion King</em>, but now it has this more tangible quality. It feels like an entirely new thing. And it doesn’t feel like [computer-generated imagery].”

Those few days in July shattered many assumptions. How could News of the World function when police were treating its newsroom as a crime scene? What to do about the CEO of Murdoch’s British properties, Rebekah Brooks, or her predecessor, Les Hinton, the man Murdoch had handpicked to publish the Wall Street Journal after decades of devoted service? Rupert Murdoch, although famous for his loyalty, could be ruthless when threatened.

Meanwhile, the company’s $14-billion takeover of the United Kingdom’s largest cable broadcaster had been cast deeply into doubt. And the standing of James Murdoch, the executive chairman of News Corp in Britain, Europe, and Asia, was imperiled as well. James’s older brother — Lachlan — had once been the heir apparent, but he retreated to Australia in the face of vicious political fighting with some of Murdoch’s senior executives. Amid the tabloid crisis, Lachlan flew to New York and then London to be at his father’s side for strategy meetings. But he did not want to rejoin the company, even in a senior role. He enjoyed the freedom of distance from his father and the ability to lead his own, smaller media company back in Sydney. The boys had never taken their sister Elisabeth seriously as a possible future CEO for the company, largely because their father didn’t see her in that light. But her outsider status was looking stronger with each passing day, as James’s failure to head off this crisis seemed increasingly disastrous for the company.

Murdoch was accompanied to the hotel by Will Lewis, a senior British News Corp executive who had previously been editor of the rival Telegraph newspaper. Everyone at that meeting with the Dowlers knew an out-of-court settlement would ultimately ensue. The logic was inescapable. The revelation that the paper had broken into the phone of a dead girl, barely a teenager, transformed the issue of cell phone hacking in the public’s eye from a bit of naughtiness, a lark, to something that frightened the general public. If it could happen to Milly, it could happen to anyone, however innocent and removed from the crosshairs of gossip reporters chasing after celebrity fluff.

So some sort of deal made every sense. But at this meeting no one raised the question of money. The Dowlers’ lawyer, Mark Lewis, gestured for people to sit down. (The two Lewises are not related.) Mark Lewis and the Murdoch camp shared a secret that was about to become public: Executives for News International, the British wing of News Corp, had assigned journalists and private eyes to follow him hopes of uncovering some personal transgression they could use against him and his clients. Murdoch’s company was publicly contrite. But privately it had been playing rough.

I know about you, Mark Lewis told Murdoch. I know your mother is still alive. She’d be ashamed of you for what you’ve done.

Georgia Nicols' daily horoscopes: May 27, 2014<strong>Moon Alert</strong>
Caution: Avoid shopping or making important decisions all day. The Moon is in Taurus.
<strong>Aries (March 21-April 19)</strong>
Although your focus is probably on financial matters today, do not do anything important. Avoid important decisions and definitely, avoid major purchases. (It's okay to buy food or gas.) Your productivity at work might suffer while you deal with shortages and delays. (Sigh.)
<strong>Taurus (April 20-May 20)</strong>
The Moon is still in your sign today; however, today is a Moon Alert day. This could make you feel spacey and disconnected. You might also lack motivation and feel like it's just a goofy day, which, in fact, it is. But it's a good day to relax and be creative. Enjoy yourself!
<strong>Gemini (May 21-June 20)</strong>
In a word - this is a goofy day. It's hard to get motivated and it's hard to accomplish anything. Therefore, don't beat yourself up. Lower your expectations. However, the upside is you are very much in ouch with your muse and can be oh so creative and original!
<strong>Cancer (June 21-July 22)</strong>
Relations with females will be lighthearted but a bit unpredictable today. But lighthearted is the key. Avoid important decisions. Do not agree to anything important. Just schmooze with others and enjoy yourself. Wait until Friday if you can. Do not shop today.
<strong>Leo (July 23-Aug. 22)</strong>
Be careful because today you are in a high viz. role, relatively speaking, and yet, you might make a goofy mistake or do something you later regret. Therefore, think before you speak or act, especially with bosses, parents, teachers, VIPs and the police.
<strong>Virgo (Aug. 23-Sept. 22)</strong>
Avoid important decisions today. Instead, give yourself the freedom to enjoy new places and meet new faces. Your appreciation of beauty might be heightened, which is why you will enjoy parks, art galleries, museums and gorgeous, architectural buildings.
<strong>Libra (Sept. 23-Oct. 22)</strong>
Be careful because your focus today is on shared property, inheritances, insurance matters and anything to do with the wealth or debt that you share with others. However, this is a poor day to make important decisions regarding these matters. Don't do it. Wait until Friday.
<strong>Scorpio (Oct. 23-Nov. 21)</strong>
Be accommodating with others today. (Actually, you have no choice.) Be comforted by the fact that in two weeks, when the Moon is in your sign, others will have to compromise with you and accommodate you. (After the game the King and the Pawn go back in the same box.)
<strong>Sagittarius (Nov. 22-Dec. 21)</strong>
Your desire to get better organized will be frustrated today, of this I am quite sure. Therefore, lighten up and lower your expectations of yourself and others. Go with the flow when you experience shortages and delays. It's just what it is. (Friday is a strong day.)
<strong>Capricorn (Dec. 22-Jan. 19)</strong>
This is a creative, inventive day for you. Write down your ideas or grab any opportunity to express your creative urges. Unfortunately, we often think that only professionals can express their talents. But you are a verb, not a noun. The magic is in the doing.
<strong>Aquarius (Jan. 20-Feb. 18)</strong>
This is the perfect day to relax at home if you can. Without doubt, your focus is on home, family and private matters right now. But on top of this, today is a goofy, spacey day. Lower your expectations. Just deal with what is necessary.
<strong>Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20)</strong>
This is a good day for writers, actors and people who want to express themselves. It's a poor day for important decisions, agreements or signing documents. Don't volunteer for anything. Postpone whatever you can until tomorrow or better yet, Friday. Enjoy lighthearted banter with siblings and daily contacts.
<strong>If Your Birthday Is Today</strong>
Actor Paul Bettany (1971) shares your birthday today. You are naturally sophisticated. It's as if you were born with style and panache. You are fun-loving and have a great sense of humour; but you are also hard-working. You are individualistic and have original views. This year offers you promises, opportunities and choices. Do not over extend yourself in the first half of the year. Save your money and cut expenses.

Dame Elisabeth Murdoch was then 102, by consensus the con- science and chief patron of the Australian port city of Melbourne, Rupert’s birthplace. The media baron assented but then changed the emphasis. My father. He’d be ashamed. Keith Murdoch had led one of Australia’s most influential media companies. At his death his young son Rupert inherited a small paper in a forgotten city. Mention of his father seemed to change Rupert’s mood. His shame melted and he found himself repeating a signature complaint that had motivated him throughout his career.

My father was a great newspaperman, Keith Murdoch’s son said ruefully in the London hotel room. The British never gave him his due.

It was absolutely irrelevant to the people in the room, a strange aside, an echo of old battles called to mind by his father’s ghost that he had summoned unwittingly to the conference.

Although they lived in different worlds, the couple sitting in that hotel room and the billionaire shared one experience: parenthood. The Dowlers were still grieving, just days after the conviction of their girl’s killer, and they were freshly wounded by learning of the tabloid’s invasion of her privacy. Murdoch was attempting to salvage his son James’s destiny.

Murdoch was tired, from flying and from the pressure he faced. New allegations claimed that his reporters sought to hack the phones of victims of the September 2001 terror attacks in New York City. If the scandal spread to the United States, it could prove catastrophic to his control of the company. The news magnate who was famously obsessive about details — down to headlines, story selection, and photo captions — appeared out of touch when it mattered most. James, far from being able to shield his father, had left him and News Corp vulnerable to shame and ridicule.

Gemma Dowler spoke directly to Murdoch on behalf of her parents and dead sister. When her sister disappeared, Gemma had been a round-faced 16-year-old studying for the standardized tests that would get her into college. In the intervening nine years she had received a rough education about the cruelties of crime, the justice system, and the press. She took the time to admonish the media mogul.How would you have felt if it had happened to someone in your family? He sat with his head in his hands.

Darren Stone / Postmedia News

In the space of a few days much of his record had come under assault, and Murdoch’s character was also being questioned. Was his cowboy style a quirk, a key component of his success, or a fundamental defect that had led to this very moment? Was he guilty, complicit, or, as he suggested, a bystander to this raft of cruelties?

When he finally emerged blinking into the July sunlight on the marble steps of the hotel, Murdoch was confronted by a scrum of reporters and photographers and video camera operators, some of them his own. “As founder of the company, I was appalled to find out what had happened,” Murdoch said. “I found that out, I apologized. I have nothing further to say.” Later he would tell members of Parliament, his own reporters, and a judicial inquiry that he had been betrayed by those in whom he put his trust, as well as by the people they in turn had trusted.

But it was not clear whether those people, his reporters, editors, and lawyers, had betrayed the nature of the company he had engineered from his father’s modest bequest. The uproar that ensued from the disclosure about the hacking of the voice mail messages of Milly Dowler and others arose from a creeping understanding of the culture of News Corp, based primarily on the qualities of one man.

Rupert Murdoch’s company embraced a buccaneering spirit to create new fortunes, and it was built on personal and family ties more than most, with a clubbiness, or mateship, that was almost impossible for outsiders to penetrate. The scandals of 2011 revealed that culture had also become untethered from the well-being of the people it claimed to serve.

A story about Canadian spies working with the American National Security Agency (NSA) to spy during the G20, and Toronto Mayor Rob Ford having a bizarre episode of undulating and cursing, don’t seem to have much in common. But both stories touch on a matter of increasing concern in Canadian journalism — whether our news agencies will pay to get a story, even if they insist they have not done so.

News organizations pay for services all the time, of course. Non-staff writers can contribute articles and invoice for payment as freelancers. Ditto photographers and videographers. Indeed, members of the public, if they happen to catch something newsworthy on their smartphone cameras, can sell it to the highest bidder.

But, as a matter of professional pride, most organizations do not pay for information. If someone walks up to a reporter and says, “I’ve got a great scoop, and it’ll cost you $10,000,” the expected response from a reputable journalist working for a professional organization is, “No, thanks.” Stories that are paid for are problematic for many reasons. The source is clearly biased, and might not be totally honest; payouts may spark bidding wars; and if it gets out that a paper or outlet will pay for info, why would anyone offer it for free? There’s a real risk that people will bring completely bogus stories to an outlet that pays out. There are also concerns that audiences may not react well to a story they know someone made a buck off selling. And, finally, journalists just plain don’t like doing it. It feels dirty.

But two recent incidents show how difficult these issues can be, and how well-intended rules can prove flexible under duress.

First, there was the Toronto Star‘s purchasing of a video that showed Rob Ford, by his own admission intoxicated, gyrating madly, seemingly acting out combat moves, while profanely ranting. The Star acknowledged paying $5,000 for the video. Second, there was a recent CBC story that revealed close co-operation between U.S. and Canadian spy agencies during the G20. The story, published online at the CBC website, was by Glenn Greenwald, a prominent U.S. journalist who has in recent months been at the forefront of coverage of the NSA. Greenwald, was was given access to sensitive documents by NSA leaker Edward Snowden, and has since broken many related stories, including the one run by the CBC, for which Greenwald was paid a reported freelance fee of $1,500.

The news organizations (and Greenwald himself, on Twitter) denied that information was paid for, and that may be true in a literal sense. But both issues raise troubling questions when looked at closely.

Of the two, the Toronto Star is on shakier ground. The Star‘s “Newsroom Policy and Journalistic Standards Guide” has a pretty stark position on this matter: “The Star does not pay for information.” I emailed Star editor Michael Cooke, seeking information on what the Star did pay for when it bought the video, then, and asked if the payment was handled in line with normal Star policies for freelance work. I received this unhelpful response: “We didn’t pay for information.” A near identical email sent to Kathy English, the Star‘s public editor, received no answer, though Ms. English later published a column which addressed the issue. She concluded that the Star did not violate its policies, but also admitted to some discomfort with the whole affair, and acknowledged that some of the problem was in the Star‘s definition of paying for information, which requires interpretation.

Indeed. Ms. English notes in her column that her paper’s rule has “long been interpreted to mean that the Star does not pay sources to talk to its reporters.” This leaves me genuinely curious about how the Star would react if a member of the public offered to sell them a home-made video that contains nothing but a statement that the Star wouldn’t pay for if offered directly to a reporter’s face. Using the Star‘s internal policies to deem “information” as synonymous to “verbal statements delivered in person to a reporter” seems a little too cute. Deliberately vague, one could fairly suggest.

The CBC’s freelance agreement with Greenwald is, of course, a different creature. Greenwald did write the story — that’s labour warranting compensation (the National Post routinely pays freelancers for their work). And Greenwald is, unquestionably, an expert in the field of what the NSA is up to.

Indeed, he’s the expert — he’s the only guy with the documents that make the stories possible. And that adds an ethical wrinkle to this. He’s effectively a one-man information monopoly on the NSA leaks file, and it’s an issue of tremendous public concern and very real interest. In this case, I’m not sure what the effective difference is between paying for an interview (forbidden by the CBC’s guide for Journalistic Standards and Practices) and paying for a freelance piece authored by the keeper of the documents.

The CBC’s guide of acceptable journalistic practices is much more detailed than the Star‘s, and probably means that their butts are effectively covered. They state, in part, “Payment … to experts or commentators is … acceptable where the person comments on news or current affairs and adds context to our content without being an actor in the event or issue.” As stated above, Greenwald is arguably the only true expert in this area. (An argument could perhaps be made that he’s so closely involved in the story that he’d qualify as “an actor in the issue,” but let’s leave that to one side.)

But here’s a head scratcher: The CBC won’t pay for an interview, beyond reasonable expenses incurred by the interviewee as part of the process (which is entirely fair and common practice). But if the would-be interviewee instead writes what he knows down as a “freelance article,” which is published and paid for, how is that really different?

Personally, I’m a pragmatist. Speaking only for myself and not for my paper, I would pay for information under certain circumstances: If the story was big enough, if the price was affordable enough and I had reasonable confidence that the information is legitimate. I’d then disclose the facts to my readers and let them judge accordingly. More specifically, I’d probably have written Greenwald his $1,500 cheque, and would probably not have bought the video of Rob Ford that the Star plunked down $5,000 for. It didn’t add enough to the story to be worth the money, and felt more like a potshot than news reporting.

But that’s just my vote. Each of these decisions is going to be made on a case-by-case basis. News is fluid, and the rules that govern the news will be fluid, too. Too strong a prohibition against paying for news will just mean news orgs twist themselves into pretzels finding a way around their own rules. What’s called for here isn’t policy handbooks, it’s openness: If a scoop is worth paying for, pay for it, and be open about it. Let the public be the judges. They’ll do a far better job enforcing standards of decency and fair play that a seldom-read book of policy guidelines somewhere on a dusty shelf ever will.

By-election hangoverWe’re pretty much over Monday’s by-elections at this point, but Deveryn Ross, writing in the Winnipeg Free Press, has an interesting piece alleging that Brandon-Souris was the Liberals’ for the taking — only they buggered it up. In arranging a competitive riding nomination they eliminated a candidate who might have split the vote on the right. And Justin Trudeau ignored rural parts of the riding, gave the Tories a gift with his comments in the riding on legalizing marijuana, and — this is an especially good point — inexplicably finished the campaign in the surefire-win ridings of Toronto Centre and Bourassa. “We would have certainly lost if [Trudeau] had been here in the final days to pull in votes for [Liberal candidate Rolf] Dinsdale,” a “senior Manitoba Tory who assisted [victorious Conservative candidate Larry] Maguire’s campaign” tells Ross.

More, in brief, on the by-elections: L. Ian MacDonald, in the Ottawa Citizen, provides a thorough recap;Tim Harper, in the Toronto Star, considers the bad news for Tom Muclair; Robin Sears, in the Star, argues the Dipper spinmeisters dropped the ball big time;editorials in the Starand Globe and Mailconsider the good news for Justin Trudeau, as does Jeffrey Simpson,in the Globe, who believes Stephen Harper is now “dead weight … on Conservative fortunes”; Michael Den Tandt, in the Postmedia organs, considers the terrible news for Harper; John Ivison,in the National Post,says even optimistic Conservatives are dialing down their expectations for 2015; Thomas Walkom, in the Star, considers the only good news for Harper, which is “that the anti-Conservative vote remains desperately split”; and Lorne Gunter, in the Sun Media papers, explains why the results in Brandon-Souris mean nothing — nothing!

The RCMP affidavit against Nigel Wright and Mike Duffy present “a compelling argument that [Conservative party lawyers Arthur] Hamilton and [Benjamin] Perrin had knowledge of what was very likely a criminal offence and took steps to facilitate inappropriate acts,” criminal lawyer Michael Spratt argues at iPolitics. They were “under an ethical obligation to advise their clients that the payment of money to a sitting senator as part of a quid pro quo was illegal,” and to “report the illegal conduct up the ladder of responsibility” — for example, to the Prime Minister. Perhaps they did, as Spratt says. If they didn’t, he suspect they may soon get a call from the Law Society.

Criminal or not, Aaron Wherry of Maclean’s argues that the details of the affidavit add to a growing heap of evidence that the PMO wields entirely undesirable levels of influence over ostensibly independent actors and committees. Perhaps we might want to change that.

André Pratte of La Presse notes that while Auditor-General Michael Ferguson’s report on railway safety certainly outlines steps that need to be taken, there is nothing to suggest — as so many did at the time — that the Lac-Mégantic catastrophe was the direct result of systemic Conservative neglect. So there’s some … uh, good news.

Also in La Presse, François Cardinal notes that part of the reason Montreal’s Champlain Bridge is falling apart is because it was built shoddily, and in haste. If the feds are willing to pony up to accelerate the timeline for its replacement, that’s fine with him. But if they insist on sticking to the same budget, he fears a repeat. “It’s better to respond to emergencies for a few extra months,” in his view, “than to live with ill-adapted infrastructure for decades.”

The sports sectionThere’s no sugarcoating the hit CBC television took on Tuesday, when the NHL announced its exclusive broadcast deal with Rogers. “As a ballpark estimate, industry insiders suggest that half of the CBC’s advertising revenue … was pulled in by its exclusive arrangements for Hockey Night in Canada, as well as Stanley Cup playoff coverage,” the Post‘s Scott Stinson reports. All gone bye-bye. “A CBC that only gets to use hockey as a promotional platform, and not as the lynchpin of its schedule, will almost certainly end up being a very different CBC,” Stinson argues.

By the Globe‘s Tony Keller‘s calculations, this TV deal, coupled with the new collective bargaining agreement, “appear[s] to be enough to turn most of [the] money-losing U.S. teams into break-even propositions or better. … And the day when the NHL grows to more than seven Canadians teams is growing more distant.”

The Star‘s editorialists hope the planned class action suit against the NHL by former players suffering from concussion-related problems convinces the league to soften up the sport. The Post‘s Joe O’Connor thinks that “if you don’t want to get hurt playing hockey,” then “don’t play hockey”; and that “if you do get hurt playing hockey,” it “seems absurd to blame the game for being the game it is.” We suspect you can tell which side we’re on.

Duly notedNo offence intended to Andy Barrie or Michael Enright, but Andrew Mitrovica, writing for iPolitcs, argues that “accepting the Order of Canada is the antithesis of what journalists and journalism should be about. We should be monitoring power, not hobnobbing with it.” There are more than enough journalism awards out there to “satisfy the fourth estate’s seemingly unquenchable need to be celebrated,” in his view. And furthermore, says Mitrovica, “journalists are forever lecturing others that perception trumps reality. Well, what is the deferential image that journalists are promoting when they accept from the Queen’s proxy an accolade reserved, in large measure, for well-connected politicians?” Fine questions.

As Christie Blatchford pointed out in her column today, the Toronto Star has just altered the standard of journalism in this country. By purchasing a video showing Rob Ford threatening to kill someone for $5,000, the Star has spelled the beginning of the end of the old media standards.

In contrast to media cultures in other countries, and particularly in the U.K., Canadians did not traditionally pay sources for information or videos.

Although organizations often shell out cash for “freelance” photographs of breaking news, a lucky amateur who happened across a salacious moment or a grave matter has long been encouraged to share that information with a news outlet free of charge, all in the name of the public interest.

The outlet would then run the item in the paper, or online, generating ever-growing readership and advertising dollars.

In other words, the normal Joe who expended the effort and risk of newsgathering was often implored to think of the public good — but don’t believe for one second that the newspapers who serve that same interest weren’t also running a business.

Now this was a pretty good rule, especially for news outlets. It discouraged disreputable characters from manufacturing the news for cash, and it allowed media to profit on information that cost relatively little to gather.

As an ethical tenet, however, it’s mushy in practice.

To draw a hypothetical parallel, (presuming I were not employed by the National Post) if my Ryerson University Journalism School-educated self happened to have been sitting in that chair in that living room, I would have filmed that diatribe, too. If I had sold it, citing my status as a pedigreed freelancer, would fellow journalists be crying murder today? There certainly would have been some quibble about surreptitiously recording Mr. Ford — but being in the right place, at the right time, this is the mantra of all news gathering.

Related

The ethical transgression here is surely not that someone paid cash for an amateur video — outlets have often done the same for photographs — but that the video was filmed deceptively by an anonymous interlocutor.

Yet few seem to be incensed by these latter points, living as they do in the shadow world of source-reporter relationships and mysterious intentions. After all, sources reveal damaging content for all kinds of motives; more typically for vengeance or political advantage. Is cash a more evil incentive?

The real issue here doesn’t seem to be the $5,000 payment, per se. It’s that the cash is going to a — presumably — disreputable non-journalist. Not just an amateur, but a source. This is an ethical standard that’s designed to protect not only the bottom lines of news organizations, but also the cartel of professional journalists who still hold enormous power over what information the public sees. And who gets paid for it.

In a world where everyone has a smart phone, this standard probably couldn’t hold for much longer.

WARNING: GRAPHIC LANGUAGE

Sooner or later a well-connected amateur was going to grab something too juicy to pass up; sooner or later he was going to demand a fair price for his risk and effort. Loftier matters of public interest aside, this is the fundamental transaction that belies all journalism, professional or otherwise. The National Post pays me for information and content every day. The paper then sells that content to an audience for profit.

But when a kid from Etobicoke has access to the same technology that I do, the difference between us is training, intent and, to a much greater extent, opportunity.

Others will disagree on this; they assume journalists are imbued with a mystical mandate that makes this exchange of content for cash reputable, noble, even.

They are probably correct, too, of course.

Whether a surreptitiously recorded rant filmed by an unknown person with opaque intentions in a private residence, clearly edited and absent all context is a matter of concern for a wider audience will be left to others to debate.

It’s very hard to maintain a taboo after one party breaks it. Whether the Star intended this or not, it’s open season now

The Toronto Star argued that the mayor’s addictions and predilections are a matter of public interest. Perhaps they would even argue that Mr. Ford’s exceptional mayoralty presents a special case; a matter so compelling that it warrants bending the rules — just this once. But the Toronto Star doesn’t get to dictate the rules we all play by.

And it’s very hard to maintain a taboo after one party breaks it.

Whether the Star intended this or not, it’s open season now. Rob Ford is not the only politician in Canada struggling with demons.

To draw another hypothetical scenario, say there were video floating around demonstrating the bad behaviour of another public figure. However, the owner is only willing to release the tape with the promise of some incentive. Say I know about it; my competition knows about it and we’re both sure the other is aware. Before yesterday, there’s not much either party could do. The only thing binding our behaviour was a mutually shared expectation of ethical conduct.

And today?

One paper broke that contract; does my competition follow suit? Do they suspect I will? We’re both clever enough to know the other is having this exact conversation.

It’s a prisoner’s dilemma; sooner or later, one side cracks.

Absent an unequivocal condemnation of the Toronto Star and a re-affirmation of old-standard journalistic ethics — ethics that may not even hold in the modern world — there’s no debate to be had here. The standard has changed. The thing is done. It’s only a matter of time before another dodgy amateur video can be argued to be of such compelling importance that it warrants a price tag.

Oh, and this notion that the $5,000 went to the “the legal and beneficial use of a family,” according to the Star’s editor in chief, Michael Cooke?

That’s not how money works, guys. Cash isn’t a physical repository of good intentions. It’s fungible. By all means put safeguards in place, but $5,000 spent on tuition or on groceries is $5,000 freed from a budget to go toward something more nefarious. It’s entirely possible that the guy willing to sell a deceptively recorded video of the mayor making death threats is going to use that compensation to take care of his family. Sure. But you have to accept the likelihood that your cash is being channelled to some ill purpose as a matter of first principles. The moment you turn over the money is the moment you lose control over the outcome: if you can’t accept that, you shouldn’t do it. Convincing yourself that it was some kind of charity is just a bromide to make your outlet feel better.

These aren’t easy questions and I don’t know whether the Star did right or wrong, here. I worked in that newspaper’s radio room to pay my way through journalism school. Certainly some of my wages were channelled to less productive ends.

Shannon Stapleton/ReutersNewt Gingrich on Romney: “On big philosophical issues, he is for all practical purposes a liberal and I am a conservative.”

Though I’ve been critical of the Toronto Star‘s relentlessly negative coverage of Rob Ford over the years, starting even before he was elected mayor in 2010, they did truly excellent work on the entire crack video story and all that surrounded it. Saying that the Star had generally been unfair to Ford, but did good investigative journalism on the crack video story, is far too much nuance for many people, who’ve long ago taken a side on this issue and refuse to waver from it. But I stand by my position that the Star‘s excellent journalism of the last six months has made a welcome change from some of what came before it.

Sadly, after the purchase and publication of a video showing an intoxicated Mayor Ford wildly gesticulating his way through a profane rant, I think the Star has slipped back into their old bad habits.

The video, which runs not quite 90 seconds and cost the Star $5,000 to purchase, was reportedly taken after the Mayor arrived, already in an intoxicated state, at a private home. During the video, he swears, rants about murdering someone and ripping his eyes out, and generally acts very much like someone under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol. It’s embarrassing stuff, and Mayor Ford quickly acknowledged the authenticity of the video and agreed that he was, indeed, embarrassed.

But that’s the problem. Beyond embarrassing the already humiliated and clearly troubled Ford further, I don’t see what publishing the video accomplishes. It seems that embarrassing the mayor was the accomplishment in and of itself. And that’s not journalism, that’s kicking a man when he’s down.

If the video had added something substantive to the story that we didn’t already know, it would be one thing. But let’s recap what the video tells us about Mayor Ford: He can behave erratically while intoxicated. We knew that already. That Ford is prone to bizarre public outbursts while under the influence of only God knows what substances isn’t news. It wouldn’t have been news years ago. Why pay $5,000 for proof of something that’s already established?

A colleague suggested to me this morning that the public interest is served by us seeing exactly what Ford is like when he’s under the influence. And he’d seem to have a lot of support, since numerous other media outlets, including my radio station and this very newspaper, also chose to run the video. The Star owns the responsibility for putting it out there in full to begin with, but they aren’t alone in thinking that it’s newsworthy or is in the public interest.

I can’t agree, for two reasons. The first is pragmatic — when you combine all the confirmed instances of Ford’s public intoxication, and all the other unconfirmed but reasonably substantiated ones, it becomes clear that Ford doesn’t seem to have a pattern. Some people are mean drunks, some are relaxed drunks, some are wild drunks. Ford has been all those things and more. The video doesn’t establish a pattern here or confirm one.

The second reason is the bigger one — publishing this video didn’t serve the public interest. The people of Toronto arguably have the right to know that their Mayor has seemingly serious substance abuse issues. They also arguably have the right to know that his drinking or drug consumption results in erratic behaviour, sometimes in public. But I see no reason why the public has a right to actually witness these incidents for themselves. The fact that the mayor of a major city can’t control his behaviour while intoxicated is enough information from which the public can draw conclusions. Inviting everyone in for a gander at what one of these outbursts looks like is just voyeurism.

And it sets a dangerous precedent. The fact that the Star paid for the video isn’t the problem, per se — I think most journalists, if speaking honestly, would have to concede that there are instances where they would pay for such material. It’s that it paid a handsome sum for so little material. A major Canadian newspaper has signalled that they’re willing to pay decent cash for a video showing a guy with an admitted substance abuse problem under the influence of substances.

There are undoubtedly other videos of Ford, and other politicians, I’m sure, acting in a ridiculous, even offensive and alarming manner while drunk or high. In some instances, those videos might actually break news and add to what we know about the person in question. But the Star‘s newest scoop just reiterates the tragic facts already on record. Having lowered itself to this, it’s intriguing to wonder how the Star will react the next time someone offers them a similar video in exchange for a four-figure payout. They’ve already shown they’ll pay to kick a man when he’s down, even if it’s not newsworthy, once. Why stop there?

]]>http://news.nationalpost.com/2013/11/08/matt-gurney-the-stars-latest-rob-ford-video-wasnt-news-it-was-voyeurism/feed/0stdRob Ford gives a tour to the children of staff during "take your kids to work day" one day after admitting he smoked crack cocaine.Screengrab from the Toronto StarChristie Blatchford: Purchase of Rob Ford video sends Canadian journalism racing to the bottomhttp://news.nationalpost.com/2013/11/07/christie-blatchford-purchase-of-rob-ford-video-sends-canadian-journalism-racing-to-the-bottom/
http://news.nationalpost.com/2013/11/07/christie-blatchford-purchase-of-rob-ford-video-sends-canadian-journalism-racing-to-the-bottom/#commentsFri, 08 Nov 2013 00:06:21 +0000http://fullcomment.nationalpost.com/?p=135420

When I watched the brand new, Toronto Star-bought-and-paid-for video of Mayor Rob Ford in full, mad, out-of-his mind flight, and the poor sap’s brave but foolish scrum with the press now permanently camped outside his city hall office shortly afterwards, I phoned a friend who spent some time in the U.K. as that country’s newspaper phone-hacking scandal was developing.

The tradition in Canada is that newspapers don’t buy news or pay sources, let alone hire folks to intercept cellphones and email accounts and the like.

Though the whole Mayor Ford story has seen the journalism landscape in this country shift, this is still a significant moment — the first time, to my knowledge anyway, that a major Canadian newspaper has paid for news, or at least frankly acknowledged doing so.

I wanted to formally mark, with someone who understood, what I called the beginning of the end. My friend corrected me, and suggested the beginning is well in the rearview mirror by now.

The video in question shows a staggeringly under-the-influence-of-something Mayor Ford on a profane and incoherent rant in an unidentified living room on an unidentified date.

(It is a dreadful, embarrassing bit of tape, though I confess, as my boss and I discussed it Thursday, I swore as much and undoubtedly sounded as engorged with rage as did Mr. Ford. “Don’t forget to mention you’re sober,” said the boss.)

In any case, the poor schmuck was too dumb or too done in to notice that one of those in the room with him was filming him.

The same seems to have been true of the notorious video of Mr. Ford allegedly smoking crack, which according to the Star’s chief investigative reporter Kevin Donovan the paper had at one time “certainly” considered buying.

But back then, the paper didn’t, and the video disappeared for months until its existence was confirmed last week by Toronto Police Chief Bill Blair. The crack video remains out of the public domain.

This new number apparently was also being shopped around, with the Toronto Sun sent two short excerpts as a taste of the product.

Thursday, less than a half-hour after the Sun posted an online story about the video, the Star posted the whole schmear on its site.

In the accompanying story was a single line that read, “The Star purchased this video.”

I sent a quick email to Michael Cooke, the paper’s immensely likeable editor, partly because I knew the reporters working on the story would be up to their eyeballs, but mostly because significant decisions are the purview of the top dog.

I asked how much the Star had paid.

Cookie, as he is called by all and sundry, saucily replied that the “first time you read the amount will be in the Star.”

Later in the day, I saw CP24’s Stephen LeDrew ask him the same question.

“We paid for the video as we pay for lots of things, as you do,” Cookie said. “Absolutely,” said Mr. LeDrew. (I have no idea what he meant. As someone with the proverbial face for radio, I’ve no clue what broadcast practices are.) “No one’s getting rich off the payment,” Cookie added.

Mr. LeDrew tried again, and Cookie again replied that “no one’s getting rich. … We paid what we normally pay for a video of that nature …[where there is] overwhelming public interest.”

Well, to borrow from an old line about a whore: We’ve established what you are, darling, we’re just haggling about the price.

(That turned out to be, according to a later story on the Star site, $5,000. Cookie described it as akin to the paper buying a book excerpt.)

And what would be the nature of that overwhelming public interest?

The tradition in Canada is that newspapers don’t buy news or pay sources, let alone hire folks to intercept cellphones and email accounts and the like

Didn’t the world know already that the Toronto Mayor has, at the least, a whopping drinking problem and is prone to what even he this week called “drunken stupors”? Haven’t we known for months (and the sensible among us accepted as fact) that he has smoked crack at least once and aren’t many of us skeptical about the once?

The Star has led the way on this story — it was the first in the mainstream press to suggest Mr. Ford had substance abuse issues, to disclose the crack video, and to document instances where he has appeared out of control. Cookie has injected real oomph into the paper’s newsroom and he and the staff deserve much credit.

But paying for a video that merely confirms the worst about a man in free fall puts us onto another path.

At London’s Central Criminal Court, eight people are now on trial, five of them top journalists at the now-defunct News of the World. Charges include conspiring to hack the cellphones of celebrities and private citizens (including the voice mails of murdered teenager Milly Dowler) and bribery.

Interestingly, the report of the inquiry headed by Lord Justice Brian Leveson — its first phase ended last year, the second is on hold pending the criminal trials — documented the widespread practice of newspapers paying “third parties” or “contributors” for editorial content or pictures.

Buying news videos doesn’t lead to phone hacking, of course. I’m not saying that and neither did the inquiry. But it’s a big step in this country, and attempting to characterize it otherwise is disingenuous.

Mind you, as the fellow I called to mark the moment said, the race to the bottom is well underway.

The petulant shouted question to Mayor Ford Thursday (“Why won’t you just go away?”) and the slavering mob of reporters turning up at his house and on duty outside the glass doors to his office — little of that is in the public interest.

Two men have managed to hit notes of decency in the whole shabby piece.

One is the federal Finance Minister, Jim Flaherty, an old Ford family friend, who teared up when he was asked for his “reaction” to Mr. Ford’s troubles. The other is Deputy Mayor Norm Kelly, who has tried to strike a kind balance and cautioned reporters that the new video is without context and called it “a private moment.”

He is absolutely right: This, now, in our world, is what it means to have a private moment.

For those keeping score at home, after Thursday’s developments, three of the four major dailies based in Toronto called for Mayor Rob Ford to step down (including the National Post). Only the Globe and Mail refrained, even though it cut the line pretty close, saying that Toronto had enough, but refusing to go that extra inch further into outright calling on him to step down. Numerous columnists, this one included, also weighed in under their own bylines. It was hard to find a friend of Ford among them.

This has been a long time coming. Ford has always had an adversarial relationship with the press, especially the Toronto Star. But he’s also clashed with the Globe, the CBC and even, of late, the Toronto Sun. Hell, Ford and his brother have even attacked the credibility of reporters at News Talk 1010, the radio station that airs their show. Playing victim to the media is what these guys do, it’s often been ridiculous, a way of deflecting serious questions simply by attacking the questioner.

But the Fords do sometimes have a point, as the Globe and Mail graciously reminded us late on Thursday night.

After what can only be described as a little bit of a day for the Mayor, Ford went home, donned a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey and took his two young children out trick-or-treating. I know this because I’ve seen the photographs in the Globe and Mail. Globe photographer Peter Power followed Ford and took photos of the Mayor and his children as they went from house to house.

I’m a journalist, but I’m also a father, and I don’t have any problem telling you what I value more. It is completely unacceptable that a media outlet would go after Ford during what is explicitly private time. This was paparazzi stuff. Ford and his current problems are very clearly news, and are undoubtedly a matter of public concern. But absolutely nothing was served by disrupting his time out with his children. No public interest was furthered by revealing what Ford’s kids were dressed as for Halloween.

I’m not defending Ford. I fully support the Post’s editorial board’s call for him to step down. I always had high hopes but low expectations for the Mayor, and he’s still proven a disappointment. But that isn’t the fault of his children. Whatever political or even personal issues Ford may have, his kids have the right to go out with their dad on Halloween without a photographer following them around.

The Globe isn’t blind to the optics of this. After some initial outcry online, including from at least one Globe journalist, the photos Power got of Ford were cropped to ensure that they only show the Mayor (there’s some people in the background, but that’s par for the course). But taking down the images of the children isn’t the point. The kids shouldn’t have to contend with this sort of invasion of their privacy to begin with, even if their faces never go up online. Childhood is unbelievably fleeting, and if half of what has been suggested about Ford’s personal life is true, they’ll grow up soon enough.

It wasn’t the only time Ford has had an entirely legitimate claim to make against the media. Indeed, it wasn’t even the first time that day — in the morning, Ford yelled at photographers and video crews who were on his property, filming his house and reportedly trying to see into the windows. He ordered them off their property, and some didn’t seem all that interested in leaving until he physically began shoving them off (and even then, some kept coming back). It was an ugly scene, and probably didn’t help the Mayor’s cause any, but in this one very narrow way, Ford was right. (The National Post did not have a photographer at the scene, but had access to Canadian Press photos of the incident.)

Ford’s supporters are back on their heels. They’ve been left to wail about how the Chief of the Toronto Police Service has it out for the mayor, and even the Sun — the most Ford-friendly outlet in town — has called for Ford to step down. But even I think that the media went too far yesterday. There are limits to how far journalists should go to get a story, or a photo, even a public figure as thoroughly newsworthy and discredited as Rob Ford. The Globe crossed that line on Thursday, and it’s a pity they weren’t alone.

Though I don’t know him well, perhaps having met him a handful of times over the years, I have a lot of respect for Don Peat. Peat is the Toronto Sun‘s City Hall Bureau Chief. This man has got to be one of the hardest working journalists in Toronto. The number of stories he files boggles the mind. Open a Toronto Sun every day for a week and look specifically for his byline, then count ‘em. Or watch his Twitter account for a day. It’s incredible.

But his Monday night “scoop” left a bad taste in my mouth. This might be one byline Peat would have been better off not filing.

It appears that a member of Mayor Rob Ford’s staff, spokesman Amin Massoudi, sent a series of messages to Peat’s BlackBerry. The messages, which Peat (logically) concluded were intended for another staffer, instruct someone to arrange for a gift basket to be sent to a Toronto hospital, to the Mayor’s brother Randy, with a message wishing him a speedy recovery. While this was happening, Mayor Ford was suddenly leaving a transit town hall event due to what he said simply was a family emergency.

In our age of instant digital communication, accidents happen. I think most people have had the experience of sending an email or text to the wrong person. I once replied all on an email chain that included a lot of my wife’s closest friends, and … well, like I said, accidents happen. Obviously, Massoudi wouldn’t divulge private information about the Mayor’s family to a reporter while ordering him about on menial errands. He clearly intended the messages for someone else.

So Peat then turns the entire incident into a news story, with photographs of his BlackBerry’s screen showing the messages he wrongly received. And the Sun puts it online.

There’s always a tension between what a news organization (or in this case, a newspaperman) knows and what they will report. Reporters, or even mere commentary hacks like myself, are not simply transmitters of information. We are expected to have some judgment about what we report, because what we know can hurt people. Sometimes, the public interest demands that we go ahead. But sometimes, it doesn’t.

It’s subjective, I know. But Canadian journalists generally leave a politician’s family out of their coverage unless there are some very good reasons to report them. And I don’t see any reason whatsoever for the public to know that the Mayor’s brother is getting a basket with some nuts in it. Randy Ford is not a celebrity. He does not have a large public profile. He rarely appears alongside his more famous brothers in public. Such a health crisis in the Mayor’s family may become newsworthy, especially if it has a sad outcome. Perhaps there is some justification for referencing the situation as part of the broader news story of Mayor Ford leaving his public event. That’s how the Posthandled it, and, intriguingly, it’s also how the Toronto Sun itself handled it, in a news story published in Tuesday’s edition. Randy Ford’s hospitalization is mentioned, but only in the context of the Mayor leaving a public event early.

I’m not entirely comfortable with that, but at least it adds additional context to a (barely) larger news story. Peat’s blog, however, basically reported, blow by blow, on a private citizen’s health crisis, using information obtained through the online equivalent of a wrong number phone call, treating the accidental leak of the information itself as the story. And my question is … why?

If I were in Peat’s shoes, and I’d gotten this story the way he did, I would have written Massoudi back, told him he had the wrong guy and wished Randy Ford a speedy recovery. I wouldn’t have treated it like a news story and raced to get it online. Don Peat’s a good journalist with a tremendous work ethic. But this time, he should have put decency and discretion ahead of the story.

It was one of the most-talked-about films at the Toronto International Film Festival and now The Fifth Estate, the blockbuster movie about the controversial Julian Assange and the WikiLeaks saga is going into wide release.

Join our live chat as we discuss Assange, his maverick site and how they changed the dissemination of information in the media age — all set against a backdrop of espionage, international intrigue and political secrets.

On our panel: Dwayne Winseck, a professor at Carleton University’s School of Journalism and Communication with a cross-appointment at the Institute of Political Economy who has expertise in media regulation and policy, privacy and propaganda; and Paul Levinson, a Fordham University professor who comments widely on social media, news, popular culture and major motion pictures. His op-eds have apppeared in several newspapers and he was named one of Twitter’s top 10 “High Fliers” by The Chronicle of Higher Education. Be a part of our discussion, Wednesday, Oct. 9 at 1 p.m. ET.